A Collection of Harmonious OneShots
by Seel'vor
Summary: My contribution to the "Rampant Plot Bunny" files... H/Hr, rating for language
1. Birth of a Dark Lord

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

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He lay facedown, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.

Slowly, he sat up, looking around the area. A perfectly formless white light filled his vision for as far as he could see. With a frown, he stood up, looking around. This was most certainly _not_ what he was expecting when he let Voldemort hit him with another _Avada Kedavra_. He was expecting... _something_, not a shapeless, faceless mass.

"Harry..." A voice said from behind him, prompting him to turn around quickly. What he saw...

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes." The old man broke into a smile. "You wonderful boy! You brave, brave man! Let's take a walk, Harry."

Harry didn't move. "You're dead."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling happily. "Yes."

"So I'm dead now?"

"Ah, not quite." The old man's eyes twinkled. "You stand on the cusp, Harry. You can go on or you can go back. The choice is yours."

Harry nodded, and slowly fell into step next to him. There was silence for a few moments, until Dumbledore spoke. "I imagine you have questions, Harry. I know, if I were in your place, I'd have questions."

"Several." Harry shot back. "I'm just figuring out where to start."

With an amiable nod, Dumbledore said, "Take as long as you need. In this place, there is no time. What happens here will have no effect on the waking world."

After a moment, Harry decided on his first topic. "Let's talk about Horcruxes, shall we?"

Dumbledore nodded. "An excellent place to begin." He steepled his fingers together. "As you know, Tom made his Horcruxes, starting right at the end of his Hogwarts career. The diary. Then he made the Ring, Locket, the Goblet, the Diadem, yourself and Nagini. When he fled from Godric's Hollow in 1981, the final Horcrux he was planning to make backfired, and that piece of sheared off soul rushed into the only thing that would support it. You."

Harry nodded, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. "So... I've been a Horcrux since 1981?"

"Indeed."

"And you knew?" The accusation in Harry's voice was impossible to miss.

Dumbledore hesitated, then nodded. "Yes." He said heavily.

"I remember... back in second year... you said that night, when Voldemort came for the Potters... 'he transferred some of his own powers to me the night he gave me the scar'. That's what you said."

"I did."

"But... he didn't just give me some of his powers or abilities... I got a piece of his soul."

Again, Dumbledore nodded.

"You knew, all this time, that I had a piece of this bastard's soul attached to mine, and you did _nothing_?"

"What would have had me do, Harry?" Dumbledore asked feebly.

"Remove it!" Harry roared. "How about bloody tell me?"

Dumbledore blanched. "How, Harry? How could I just come up to you and say 'Harry, you have to die in order to defeat Voldemort?'" The old man's eyes filled with tears. "You have no idea of the burden I've had to carry.... I told you, back when Sirius was killed, that I fell into the trap of caring for you too much."

Harry held up his hand, prompting Dumbledore to stop speaking. "You forget, old man... Snape gave me his memories. I saw the conversations you had with him last year. You told him that I couldn't be told, not until the very last minute. You didn't trust me. You led me around by the nose, and I just let you."

"Harry, stop a moment." Dumbledore said firmly. "You are not dead. You have destroyed all of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Yes, I had plans regarding your life, but it was for the good of all of us that it be done this way. Once Voldemort has been defeated, you'll be free to live your life."

There was no response. Dumbledore glanced down at his young comrade, seeing him frowning in deep thought. "How much of my life has been orchestrated by you, old man?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry ignored the question. "First, it was you that put me with the Dursleys... you knew they treated me very badly, but that probably played into your plans, didn't it? I came from there an emotionally abused child, pathetic in my yearning for acceptance. You used that, didn't you?"

"My boy-"

"I'm most definitely _not _your boy. And tell me the truth."

"What you ask-"

Harry grabbed Dumbledore by the throat, squeezing intently. "Tell me the truth," He commanded in a low voice, "or I swear I'll destroy your soul for eternity!"

Dumbledore reached up, tugging futilely at Harry's hand. After a moment of wheezing, he nodded feebly. Harry released Dumbledore's throat, stepping back. "I want an oath, based on the destruction of your soul if you lie."

"I do... not have a wand." Dumbledore gurgled.

"Then do it without one." Harry said through gritted teeth.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, swear on pain of my soul being obliterated for all eternity, that I will answer the questions Harry James Potter puts to me with no lie or prevarication."

Harry nodded. "Did you want me to be abused as I grew up?"

Dumbledore winced; the first question was one he really didn't want to answer, but the oath gave him no choice. "Yes. You'd be far more malleable if you were mistreated as a child."

"Right... that's why you said you knew you'd be 'condemning me to ten dark and difficult years'." Harry said bitterly. "But that's what you wanted. A malleable child." He sighed. "The traps for the Philosopher's Stone... was it just coincidence that they were perfect for three first years?"

Damn... another question he didn't want. "No. They were designed just after Christmas, when it became clear that you, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley had formed a trio friendship. Each of the tasks was selected for you."

"And was it just a test? Make sure that I can withstand Voldemort?"

"I preferred to think of it as 'allowing you to test your strength'." Dumbledore said weakly. "You needed these tests, Harry. It was the only way to prompt you to better yourself."

Harry seethed silently for a moment. "Second year... did you know the Basilisk was possessing Ginny Weasley."

Bollocks... that was a third. "Yes. As soon as she brought the diary through the wards, I was notified of it's presence. Since Voldemort was the only one who has made a Horcrux is recent history, I knew it was one of his. Again, I was allowing you to hone yourself in battle."

"I nearly died!" Harry roared. "And what about Fawkes? Why did he come down?"

"I told you at the time." Dumbledore said softly.

"Let's assume you were lying to me." Harry snapped. "As I believe you were. If Fawkes could come down to me, he could have brought you as well. Why didn't he?" He didn't give the old man the chance to respond. "No, let me guess; 'I was allowing you to test your strength', right?"

Dumbledore nodded weakly.

Harry sighed. "And Sirius... actually, that's a thought. Hagrid told me that Sirius was there at Godric's Hollow, and he was under orders to deliver me to the Dursleys. Who the hell gave you the right to keep me away from my Godfather?"

"It was necessary that you live with the Dursleys, Harry."

"Right, right... 'the Greater Good' again. If I was raised by a loving godfather, I wouldn't depend on you at all. Okay, that I understand. Next; the Tri-Wizard. Did you deliberately keep me in it?"

Dumbledore sighed in defeat. "Yes. Since it was an ICW-sponsored event, as the Supreme Mugwump, I could have ended the tournament, allowing you to not participate. Again, though, I believed that allowing you to compete would help harden you."

"And again, could possibly get me killed. Then the third task... wait a minute!" Harry stared at Dumbledore, accusation running rampant across his face. "Your office... after the third task... when I told you that he took my blood, you looked dead smug for a second... you knew!"

"Yes. I knew that by taking your blood, it would connect the two of you even further." Dumbledore admitted. "I knew the bond would only escalate and grow. That was crucial to the success of the plan."

"You lied to me."

"I did."

"And that summer, you imposed a communication block on me. Why? Was that part of your plan to keep me dependent on you, even though you wouldn't speak to me?"

"In a word, yes."

Harry sighed, slumping backwards. Instead of sitting on the floor, he found himself on a hard bench. Dumbledore stopped, seeing Harry sitting on something and sat down next to him. "You must understand, Harry, there was no other way-"

"Can it." Harry interrupted. "I've not finished yet." Dumbledore nodded warily. "So, that year, when Umbitch was torturing me with that damned Blood Quill, did you know?"

"Yes."

"And that was also to 'harden' me?"

"Yes."

"And during sixth year, you took ages to show me those memories, when we could have gone through them all in one night. You just didn't want me to learn too much, did you?"

Dumbledore winced. "No... if you became too knowledgeable or powerful, you wouldn't die at the right time. Your death was crucial to everything." Dumbledore spoke a little more confidently as he got into the virtues of his plans. "By dying, as you have now, you have destroyed all of Voldemort's protection. He is mortal and vulnerable. There will never be a better time."

Harry sat silently. "There's more, isn't there? Tell me about the Order of the Phoenix."

Dumbledore blinked. "The Order was created by myself in 1964 to combat the threat of Voldemort. I selected-"

"I don't want a bloody history lesson!" Harry hissed angrily. "I want to know their orders regarding me."

"Ah..." Dumbledore's face was a mask of pain as he gathered his thoughts, before sighing. "The Order was watching over you from the day I left you on the doorstep of Privet Drive. From time to time, they stepped in, ensuring that certain things happened to you at the right time. Sometimes, they'd prompt your Uncle to beat you, other times they'd stop him. They were also partially responsible for you having no friends as you grow up. It was a program designed to isolate you."

"But... Dudley was the one-"

"Use of the Imperius curse can cause wonders." Dumbledore said softly.

Harry's jaw dropped as the 'leader of the light' admitted to using the Unforgiveable curses on an impressionable child. "You... never mind. What about while at Hogwarts?"

"You are aware of some of the Order members' identities. Professor McGonagall was made aware of the plan and has been helping me all this time. Back in your first year, she knew that Professor Quirrell was going for the Philosopher's Stone. She was ordered not to interfere." Seeing that Harry had a face like thunder, Dumbledore tried to save his friend. "She never wanted to hurt you, Harry. She wanted you able to survive. She didn't agree with-"

"Irrelevant." Harry snapped, interrupting the old man. "It doesn't matter if she wanted to or not. The fact is she _did_." He huffed. "Let's cut to the chase; who actually _was_ my friend? Not on orders or compulsions. Who actually cared about me on their own?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Of your close circle friends, they were all reporting your actions, emotions and feelings to me. Miss Lovegood, Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Weasley were all more concerned about the destruction of Voldemort than you as a person. However, Miss Granger refused to participate, and had to be... prompted. The Imperius curse and memory charms were used. She actually managed to destroy my office back in second year, just as you did in your fifth. However, having someone as close to you as she was without suitable control was unacceptable. She is loyal to you."

Harry nodded, a small smile on his face. "And what about Ginny? Did she care for me, as she said she did?"

"Possibly." Dumbledore said. "However, she was indoctrinated with your story from a young age. In effect, she was programmed to love you. You saving her in the Chamber of Secrets only cemented that."

"So, she was part of the plan, too?"

"We... pushed you and her together because you were becoming too driven. We needed you distracted. So, Miss Weasley was told of the plan. I believe after all the modifications we made to her psyche, she had no other choice."

"And can these modifications be undone?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid not. The damage done by Tom Riddle during her possession has made that impossible. She will forever love the 'Boy-Who-Lived'."

"What about Remus? Tonks?"

"All part of the plan. Remus was told to keep away until the right time. It wouldn't do for you to have friends or mentors that I hadn't authorised. Tonks was one of those selected as a potential romantic interest. However, when it became clear that she was unsuitable, she was free to pursue a relationship with Remus."

Harry again nodded, making mental notes. "What else? Was Cho part of your plans?"

"No. The reason your relationship with her failed was because of our interference. Again, we couldn't have anyone being close to you without proper control. Whenever you and she were alone, an Order member would use charms to make her cry."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You just destroyed a relationship because you didn't like it?"

"Yes." Dumbledore didn't look repentant in the slightest. "She wouldn't have been suitable for you."

"That wasn't your place to decide!" Harry roared. "How dare you?"

"It was necessary." Dumbledore repeated.

"Let's shelve this topic for the moment." Harry grunted. "Let's talk about the Deathly Hallows, shall we? Since I disarmed Draco, and he disarmed you, that makes me the Master of the Elder Wand, doesn't it?"

"It does. You possess the Cloak of True Invisibility and the Resurrection Stone. You are the Master of the Hallows, Harry. You are the Master of Death." Dumbledore sighed. "Can you forgive me for not telling you?"

"Forgive you?" Harry repeated, his face expressionless.

"Yes... I... I was tempted by the Deathly Hallows. I knew that the power to become the Master of Death was alluring, but when I was chasing the Hallows... I felt invincible. I... I knew that I couldn't be trusted with such power. I didn't want you to fall to the same temptation as I did."

"But I'm their Master now..." Harry said softly.

"You are. And a better man for them I could not ask." Dumbledore said.

Harry's grin was decidedly predatory. "Excellent."

"Harry?"

When Harry looked back at Dumbledore, the old man was taken aback by the _malice_ he saw in those green eyes. "Harry?"

"Oh, you've got what you wanted, Dumbledore." Harry stood up, stretching his arms out. "I'll defeat Voldemort. I'll kill him stone dead."

Dumbledore also stood. "Harry, you mustn't let the temptation go to your head."

"Silence." Harry said imperiously, holding up his hand. "You should be proud, Dumbledore. I'm going to become exactly what you made me." Harry closed his eyes, willing himself back to the mortal world, leaving a shaking and pale Dumbledore behind.

**

* * *

**Harry could feel himself lying on the floor of the Forbidden Forest, his body aching from the mild injuries he'd picked up when slumping to the ground.

"Is he dead?" Voldemort asked. "Someone check him."

A moment later, a blonde head appeared just over Harry's. She reached down for a pulse, barely able to contain her surprise when she felt one.

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"

Harry recognised the irritating voice of Narcissa Malfoy. "Yes." He whispered, almost soundlessly. _But not for long... he shall be one of the first._

Narcissa's face vanished from Harry's view. "He is dead, my lord." She announced proudly.

There was an evil chuckle as Voldemort realised he'd won. "Who shall carry him back... you, oaf! You shall carry him back."

Harry felt a pair of large hands gently raise him up. "'Arry..." Hagrid's gruff voice said tenderly.

The walk through the forest and the grounds passed quickly, as Harry focussed on all the information he'd learned while in Limbo. He heard Voldemort speaking, but didn't bother to listen. He knew that he'd win. It was impossible for him to fail now. He heard McGonagall scream in absolute despair, but Dumbledore's revelation prevented him from feeling bad.

He heard Neville step forward, intent on killing Voldemort himself. He could feel the magic of Voldemort's summoning charm as he called the Sorting Hat, intent on the artefact's destruction. The Sword of Gryffindor sang to him as it was called, ending the threat of Nagini once and for all.

He could see, feel and hear the Death Eaters charge into Hogwarts, the battle resuming itself. Once he was alone on the muddy grass, he sat up, reaching under his shirt for the invisibility cloak. He flung it around himself, before hauling himself to his feet. In his sleeve was Malfoy's wand, although it didn't really matter. As the Master of the Elder Wand, he could summon that at any time.

He followed the group into the castle, heading straight for the Great Hall, where the bulk of the fighting was taking place. He could hear the maniacal laughter of Bellatrix LeStrange as she battled Molly Weasley, but he had no interest in that fight. As far as he was concerned, both of them could kill each other and he wouldn't even blink. No... he wanted Riddle.

Once inside the Great Hall, Harry could see Slughorn, McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt all duelling Voldemort, none of them managing to get a good hit in, but they were able to keep him off-balance. Unfortunately for them, none of them could defeat the Dark Lord. Only Harry.

Standing in the middle of the Hall, Harry raised Malfoy's wand. A simple banishing charm sent Voldemort's opponents hurtling away, making Voldemort stop.

"What..." Voldemort looked around for a moment, looking for targets.

Harry whipped off the invisibility cloak, smirking evilly at Voldemort. "Hello, Tom."

At those two words, every fight in the Great Hall, bar the LeStrange/Weasley duel, ended at once. Every eye turned to face Harry Potter.

"Potter..." Voldemort hissed, unconsciously taking a step back. "You live."

"I do." Harry span the cloak round his hand, screwing it up into a rough ball, which he tapped with his wand, shrinking it, and pushing it into his pocket. "Well, I've had a hell of a day, Tom. How about you?"

Voldemort snarled as he raised his wand. "You cannot defeat me, Potter. I have the Elder Wand."

Harry nodded slowly. "You have it, yes... but you are not it's master."

"I killed Snape! I am the Master! Bow to me!"

"I don't think so." Harry scoffed. "Dumbledore was disarmed before Snape ever got there. He was not the Master of the Elder Wand. It was Draco Malfoy, a person who never touched the Elder Wand. Since I disarmed Malfoy, that makes _me_ the Master." He extended his hand, mentally calling the wand to him.

The look of shock on Voldemort's face was priceless as the wand was torn from his fingers, soaring to it's true master. Harry glanced at Malfoy's wand, then threw it at Voldemort.

"You know... I was gonna have a whole speech about how love is the 'power the Dark Lord knows not'... but I don't think I can be arsed now. Instead, I'll just say one thing."

Voldemort snatched up the Hawthorne wand, hoping to at least take Potter with him. "Oh?" He didn't wait for a response. Aiming the wand, he shouted, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry yawned as the green curse sped towards him. With a seeker's skill, he moved the tip of the Elder Wand to catch the spell, holding it on the end before flinging it back. Voldemort's eyes widened as he saw his curse coming back towards him, his body freezing as a flashback of sixteen years ago overtook him. The spell hit, flinging him back into the wall of the Hall. His body cracked as bones shattered, leaving him to slowly slide to the ground.

For a moment, there was silence. The Master of Death had defeated the Dark Lord. Several people began rushing towards Harry, hoping to get there and congratulate him. People crowded round him, chanting his name, patting him on the back.

Harry grit his teeth and decided to wait. He'd have his time.

**

* * *

**The bodies had been gathered. Laid side by side like cordwood in a temporary morgue. The House Elves were already beginning repairs on the castle. It was a time for sadness and grief. And Harry intended to make certain that there was plenty of sadness and grief to go around.

Kingsley had been announced as the interim Minister of Magic. Since he'd been nothing but loyal to the true ideals of government, it was determined he was the best candidate for the job.

While everyone else was searching for their loved ones, Harry took Hermione up to the Room of Requirement, intent on having a little chat with her.

Once inside at the room sealed, Harry spun round. "Okay, Hermione, spill. What's going on with you and Ron?"

Hermione blinked. "Er... well... I don't know, really. Sometimes he bugs me, sometimes he doesn't. It's... confusing."

Harry closed his eyes, 'requiring' a Pensieve. It appeared on a pedestal in between the two of them. "I've got a memory I want you to watch, Hermione. We'll talk afterwards, okay?"

Suitably intrigued, Hermione nodded. She waited while Harry pulled the silvery strand from his temple, dropping it into the runic bowl. When Harry nodded, she bent over, pressing her face against the silvery substance. Her body froze as her mind was summoned into the memory.

Harry, on the other hand, had a _fantastic_ view of her bottom as she was leaning over. _Good god... why didn't I ever do something about her?_ Having a nasty thought, Harry raised the Elder Wand, pointing it directly at his face. "_Finite Incantatum_." He muttered quietly. Instantly, he could feel memory blocks in his mind begin to crumble, the new/old memories beginning to assimilate into his consciousness. He saw all the times he'd been on a date with Hermione during fourth year, only to have a smiling Professor Dumbledore _Obliviate_ him. The times he'd seen or learnt something he shouldn't have, only to have a teacher or an Order member remove that knowledge.

The memory that really got his goat was one of him and Hermione, at the Burrow, enjoying a hot and heavy intimate moment. Molly Weasley appeared, ranting heavily as she raised her wand. _Damn... how long have we been like this?_

Hermione straightened up suddenly, spinning round to face Harry, her face a mask of terrible anger. "How long?" She snapped.

"I found this out about an hour ago." Harry said. "According to what Dumbledore said, you've been used since second year."

Hermione could only let out a scream of frustrated anger. After a few moments of panting, she looked at Harry. "That's some kind of super wand, isn't it?"

"Supposed to be, yeah."

"Can it remove these bloody compulsions?"

"Just did on me." Harry said, tapping his temple lightly. "Wasn't just you." At Hermione's emphatic hand-gesture, he cast another _Finite._ Hermione blinked, then wobbled slightly on her feet.

Harry rushed over, gently bracing Hermione and pushing her onto a newly-required chair. She sat down weakly, closing her eyes as she was assaulted by a wave of memory. Finally, she looked up, tears in her eyes. "Why?" she whispered.

"I don't know." Harry knelt down in front of her. "Do you remember... fourth year?"

"We snogged on our Hogsmeade dates." Hermione said, smiling softly at him. "You're a hell of a kisser, Harry. I don't know why Cho... no, wait... I do know. Bloody hell..."

Harry smirked. "I also remember you've got quite a potty-mouth on you, too."

"You love it, you disgusting little pervert." Hermione said with a fond smirk.

"No denying that."

Hermione sighed. "What happens now, Harry? I mean... I don't think we were ever supposed to know this."

"Well..."

"You have a plan?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I was planning on becoming the new Dark Lord, to be honest. If the 'Light' can do this to people, I don't think I want to be on their side."

Hermione nibbled her bottom lip for a moment. "You think you can find a spot for a Dark Lady? After all, you know what they say; 'behind every great man-'"

"There's a woman rolling her eyes?" Harry completed, ducking to avoid her swat.

"Prat."

"I think the two of us could be a very good Dark Lord and Lady. There's quite a list of people to kill, maim and torture." Harry smirked, making Hermione shiver as she looked upon the new malevolence on his face. "What?" Harry asked, feeling her shudder.

"Damn, that's sexy!" Hermione gasped. "Oh my... I find an evil Harry sexy... what shall I do?" She stood up, wrapping an arm around his neck while her other hand began stroking at his crotch. "I could do this..."

"Teasing wench."

"You know it... I could stop."

"Don't you dare..."

* * *

Mere hours later, Harry and Hermione headed back down to the Great Hall, sporting identical mussed-looks. They ignored the people they passed, heading straight for the stage. Kingsley intercepted them.

"Ah, I'm glad you're here. We're gonna have a quick press conference. We need you to tell your side of the story." He said brusquely.

"Oh, I will." Harry promised, a gleam in his eye. "I'll tell them everything."

Kingsley was unnerved by the look. "What do you mean 'everything'?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Minister." Hermione said softly. "We'll tell nothing but the truth."

"O-Okay." Kingsley said slowly. "If you'll excuse me, I just need to see Professor McGonagall."

"Okay." Harry and Hermione intoned together.

Minutes later, Kingsley was stood on the stage, handing clenching the podium. He'd checked with McGonagall to make certain that Potter didn't know anything that could hurt the Order. She'd assured him that everything had been charmed and sealed away. They'd all be safe.

"People of Britain," Kingsley began, a warm, happy smile on his face, "I'm pleased to be standing here today, in a new world. A world without the threat of Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And this was all the thanks of just one young man. A young man who ended the Dark Lord forever. Mr. Harry Potter."

The audience clapped, cheered and whistled for the young hero. Harry stood up, near-jumping onto the stage. He waited until Kingsley had sat down, before sending a discrete hand-gesture to Hermione, who nodded slightly.

"I've been asked to tell my side of the story." Harry said once the cheering had quietened down. "So, I shall. I shall tell _everyone_... _everything_. It's a truly fascinating tale. A tale of mistreatment, abuse, starvation and neglect." At that moment, Hermione leapt onto the stage, raising her wand and casting a high-powered shield.

"In 1964, Albus Dumbledore began the Order of the Phoenix; a paramilitary vigilante group, aimed at Voldemort. When Voldemort was disembodied in '81, the Order was set to watch over me. You'd have thought that it would be to protect me... it wasn't. Instead, they began a program of abuse, designed to make me vulnerable and reliant on Dumbledore.

"I was beaten, starved and abused on a daily basis, with the Order pulling the strings. People like Professor McGonagall, Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin and Dumbledore himself. All of them making me into the weapon that could defeat Voldemort.

"Then I came to Hogwarts... and the cycle of abuse continued. Snivellus Snape became involved, casually using Legilimency on me, raping my mind, picking up every bad memory and using them against me."

Harry looked down at McGonagall, who was looking up at him guiltily, tears in her eyes. He sneered at her. "Ah, Professor... you look so unhappy. What's wrong?" His voice was cool and malevolent.

"H-Harry... it was necessary... Dumbledore-"

"Was wrong!" Harry roared. "Promoting a cycle of abuse! I was a child. A _child!_ What the bloody fuck had I done to deserve that?"

"The Greater good..." McGonagall mumbled.

Harry just scowled. "All throughout my Hogwarts years, the cycle continued. My 'friends', people controlled by Dumbledore to report on me and spy on me. The only person who was on my side was the remarkable young woman next to me. During our second year, she was 'drafted' by the Order into spying on me. She refused. However, that wasn't right, according to Dumbledore and his minions. So... they used the Imperius curse on her, turning her into nothing more than their little tool. After each of her 'reports', she was Obliviated.

"Do you remember in fourth year? All those rumours about me and Hermione dating? They were true. Of course, Dumbledore couldn't allow me the opportunity to have a relationship that he didn't approve. During my fifth year, after having my memories erased, I began skirting the edges of a relationship with Cho Chang... this was also sabotaged by Dumbledore and his Order. In sixth year... Ginny Weasley was an authorised relationship. After all, Ginny knew that I wouldn't be happy unless I was chasing after Voldemort. Proof that the silly girl doesn't know me at all.

"So... I've won. I wonder what plans the vaunted Order of the Phoenix has for me now? A loveless marriage with a fan-girl? Some kind of program to produce a strong magical heir, reversing the inbreeding in the magical world? Who knows? But, it doesn't matter, really. I'm free of them now. I have _all_ my memories back. I know things that the Order really don't want me to know. I could destroy them all..."

Hermione cleared her throat, stepping next to Harry. "I should clarify something, really. It's not a case of 'could' destroy them all. We _will_ destroy them all. You fucked with us... we're gonna fuck you all back ten fold."

Harry let out a final smirk. "You all thought Voldemort was a cunt? Just watch what we do..." He clasped Hermione's hand, apparating them both away, leaving the occupants of the Great Hall trembling in shock and fear.

The Master of Death had just declared war on the Magical World... and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.


	2. Happy New Year

**"Happy New Year"**

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

* * *

Harry sighed. He _hated_ New Year's Eve parties with a fiery passion. Ever since he'd finished at Hogwarts, he'd had to put up with every single female between the ages of twelve and eighty trying to make a move on him for a 'good luck' kiss at the stroke of midnight. Well... that wasn't _strictly_ true. There was one who'd never even looked at him. The one he _wanted_ to notice him never had.

Damn her, anyway.

He tried to live his life without regrets, but this always niggled at the back of his mind. He knew that he was emotionally damaged, considering the Dursleys' influence on him as he grew up, but he recognised his feelings for her as love. True love. He knew because when he saw her happy while dating someone, he felt his sadness decrease slightly. Only slightly, but enough to let him know that her happiness was more important than his.

It didn't help that, once again, she was single. Her dating life was almost as pitiful as his, a sad state of affairs. After the war, all three of the Golden Trio were celebrities, and, just like the Muggle world, people swarmed over them like flies on shit. Truth be told, it irritated two-thirds of the trio. Ron, on the other hand, was quite happy with the attention. He was tall, single, and reasonably good-looking (according to a poll in _Witch Weekly_) and he had done his part in the war. As far as Harry was concerned, it was all good for Ron.

He sighed again, heading back to the bar. He got an odd look as he ordered a Pepsi, but he didn't want to let his defences down. Alcohol was about the quickest way to get him into a destructive depression, and he had no desire to go through that again.

Taking a moment, he glanced round the room, spotting most of his Hogwarts year-mates in compromising positions. Neville had Susan Bones hanging off one arm (and considering the size of her chest, he'd need bloody strong arms to support her) and Hannah Abbot on the other. Ron was with Luna, apparently checking if she still had her tonsils. Ginny was giving Seamus and Dean a lap-dance. Not surprising, really. When Seamus had come out at the end of fifth year, it didn't surprise people too much. When Dean admitted he was bi, while dating Ginny, she'd been furious, slapping the shit out of Dean... before grabbing his wrist and dragging him to Seamus, then pulling them both out of the Great Hall. Apparently, they weren't seen for days.

Polygamy in the Wizarding world always makes me chuckle. Trios are far more common than people suspect, but a one witch/two wizard relationship is frowned upon... Until Molly Weasley got involved. She had a 'quiet word' with anyone who made a comment. They soon apologised.

He looked over to the stained glass windows, noting that Padma was with Fred tonight while Parvati was wriggling in George's lap. It was true that both sets of twins shared everything with their other half. Apparently this included husbands/wives, too. Still, with the addition of the Patils in Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, the business had really expanded. Padma's severely understated genius, along with Parvati's frightening marketing skills had made the business triple in value overnight, something which certainly helped Harry's bank balance.

His final circuit of the room spotted _her_, leaning dangerously close to someone he'd never seen before. They were staring at Hermione in a way that made him feel... uncomfortable. And she looked...

Quickly making his way over, Hermione looked up, her eyes lighting up. "H-Harry!" She slurred, instantly setting Harry's teeth on edge. "How're you?"

"I'm good, Hermione. Thank you for asking." He replied politely. "How're you?"

"Who're you?" The man asked gruffly.

"He's Harry Potter." Hermione slurred, stumbling forward and crashing into him. "My favourite Harry Potter."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Potter... ah, yes. The man who defeated the Dark Lord. Good show, old chap."

"Thank you." Harry replied, his voice like ice. "And you are?"

"Mark Johnson."

"Pleasure."

"I know."

"Harry?" Hermione drawled. "You busy?"

Harry looked down, noting just how dilated Hermione's eyes were. _Oh, bloody hell..._ "For you, Hermione, I have all the time in the world."

"Excuse me." Johnson interrupted. "I believe I was speaking with the lady."

Harry's eyes swivelled to Johnson. "Were you?"

Johnson nodded. "I've been buying her drinks all night, so I think that qualifies." His hand reached out to take hold of Hermione's arm.

"I miss my Harry..." Hermione slurred, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck. "We hardly speak anymore..."

"Johnson, I suggest you take a walk." Harry said, his voice like ice. "If you've done what I suspect, you might want to head to the Aurors."

"Oh?" Johnson's eyebrow shot up. "And what do you suspect I've done."

Harry whistled through his teeth twice. Hermione blinked at him, looking confused, a look mirrored on Johnson's face. Within five seconds, seven wands were pointing at Johnson, the witches and wizards holding them displaying no trace of inebriation. "Hold him." Harry commanded, before pulling out his wand.

A quick diagnostic charm on Hermione was all he needed. A chemical formula formed from smoke above Hermione's head.

"You son of a bitch!" Neville snarled, grabbing hold of Johnson's arm. "I'll take care of him, Harry. You take care of Hermione."

Said girl was gently rubbing Harry's bicep, looking up at him with adoration.

"Come on, Hermione... party's over."

She smiled warmly. "Are you taking me home?"

Harry reached down, plucking her legs off the floor, holding her bridal-style. "Yes." Together, the two disappeared into smoke. Neville also vanished with a sharp 'crack', taking Johnson away. The rest of the party-goers began to restart the celebrations, knowing that Hermione was in the best possible hands.

* * *

Harry reappeared inside his home at Godric's Hollow, holding onto Hermione like the precious thing she was.

"H-Harry?" Hermione slurred, still gazing up at him. "What's wrong?"

Harry didn't respond for the moment, simply stepping forward and gently lowering her onto the couch. Once settled, he took one of her hands. "Hermione, do you feel... sort of floaty?"

"Yeah..." She giggled. "Feel so good, Harry..."

"You've been spiked, Hermione." Harry informed her gently. "That man, Johnson, used a form of Rohypnol on you. He was planning to date-rape you tonight."

"Oh..." She frowned at him. "Are you planning to shag me tonight?" She asked.

"No, Hermione." Harry assured her. "I'd never do anything so reprehensible. You know that."

"You were staring at my arse." Hermione pointed out.

"I..." Harry couldn't deny it. "Hermione, there isn't a cure for Rohypnol. I'm afraid you're gonna have to let it run through your system. You should be okay in the morning. Rohypnol also affects memory. I want you to stay here tonight. I'll watch over you."

Hermione stared at him for a moment. "You never answered... you do want to, don't you?"

"I... Please don't ask me that, Hermione. You should sleep. You're very tired."

Hermione's eyes began to close. "You're too bloody noble sometimes, Harry..." She said as she drifted off to sleep.

Harry settled into the armchair, flicking his wand to summon a duvet from the bedroom, flicking it to make the cover gently tuck her in.

* * *

Hermione woke up, her head _pounding_. She could see sun shining, hear the birds singing, and her stomach roiling. _What the bloody hell did I drink last night?_ She asked herself, not opening her eyes. _If I stay here, maybe I'll die quietly._

She heard the faint sound of snoring coming from her right and managed to stifle a groan. _Oh, shite... _please _tell me I didn't have some random shag last night._ Gathering all her Gryffindor courage, she cracked open one eye, spotting Harry sitting in an arm chair, snoring lightly. _Okay... I'm on Harry's couch... why the hell am I on Harry's couch? I was at the party last night... Oh, I must have done something embarrassing..._ She heard Harry snort and couch, and decided to quickly play dead.

She heard Harry get up, stumbling slightly before he let out a small moan as he stretched. _Damn... he sounds cute like that..._ She could almost feel him approach, gently placing a hand on her forehead.

"You'll never know..." He whispered, before he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead. With that, he stumbled away, yawning loudly and scratching.

_I'll never know?_ Hermione asked herself, the pounding of her head a distant second as her mind was given a puzzle. _I'll never know what? Damn it, Harry, I feel bad enough without being confused..._ She huffed slightly as she tried to free herself from the duvet. It took a few moments, and Hermione had to pause halfway through so she didn't vomit, but she finally gained release. As she sat up, she clutched onto the back of the sofa with a piteous moan.

Harry was enjoying a long, healthy morning pee when he heard Hermione moan slightly. He pushed harder, quickly performing the single shake and follow-up jiggle, before tucking himself back into his boxers. He quickly ran the tap, wetting his hands before grabbing the towel and hurrying back to the living room. "Hermione." He said quietly, correctly guessing that she felt lousy.

"Bleugh..." Hermione said softly, flicking her tongue out slightly. "Any chance of a coffee?"

"Sure." Harry bustled into the kitchen, flicking on the coffee maker. He grabbed a mug, milk and sugar and prepared what Hermione referred to as a 'brickie-brew'; coffee so strong it could be used to melt through bank vaults. He scurried back into the living room, putting the coffee on the table.

"How're you feeling?" He asked tenderly.

"Bloody lousy..." Hermione groused, her hand instinctively reaching for the coffee. "What the hell did I drink last night, Harry?"

"Rohypnol." He informed her helpfully. "You were spiked. I brought you here so I could watch over you."

"Oh..." Hermione took a swig of her coffee, relaxing in the smooth taste of Harry's coffee before the statement entered her drug-addled brain. She spat out the coffee, making Harry dive to the side. "What?! Oh, headache, headache..."

"That fella, Johnson, spiked you with Rohypnol, Hermione."

"I... I see." Hermione swallowed, before remembering the coffee would help perk her up a bit. "And how did I get here?"

"I brought you here last night, Hermione. Just before midnight."

"Why here?" She asked. "Why not St. Mungo's?"

"I..." Harry blushed slightly. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay, is all."

"You're the healer, Harry." She said, shrugging slightly. "So... what happened to the creep?"

"Neville arrested him. Probably still at Auror HQ. I dunno. Getting you home safely was a priority."

_Home..._ the word reverberated throughout Hermione's mind. He hadn't taken her home. He'd brought her to _his place_... "Oh... thanks, Harry."

"Any time, Hermione."

She smiled warmly at him, the coffee beginning to cut through the fog and make her feel vaguely human. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What did you mean when you said 'you'll never know'?"

Harry's face erupted into a huge blush, making him look down at his feet. "Er... I thought you were asleep."

"I'd only just woke up." She said, frowning at his reaction. "Harry, whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"I... it's, er... it doesn't matter, Hermione."

Hermione's frown only got larger. "I think it does, Harry. You look... terrified." She patted the couch next to her. "Come on, Harry, there's nothing we can't talk about."

"There's this..." Harry muttered as he obediently went to sit next to her. Hermione was about to move closer when she remembered she had morning breath. Not just morning breath, but _coffee_ morning breath.

"I should go and brush my teeth." She muttered, holding her hand over her mouth. She stood up, feeling a bit woozy for a moment, but Harry was already up and helping her steady herself. "Thanks, Harry."

As she was stumbling away, she heard Harry's final remarks. "Oh bloody fucking hell..."

* * *

Five minutes later, she was minty-fresh and had a much smaller bladder. She still felt pretty grotty, but better than she was beforehand. She saw Harry, still sitting on the couch, frowning at his shoes. "Stop frowning, Harry." She told him softly, getting back on the couch and pulling the duvet over herself. "You'll give yourself wrinkles, otherwise."

"Sorry." He muttered.

"Now, what will I 'never know'?"

"Hermione, are you hungry?" Harry said in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

"No, I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach and stop changing the subject. What will I 'never know'?"

"If I told you, then-"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, dear, sweet Harry, I feel like death warmed up. Please just tell me."

"I... I can't."

"Try."

"I have before. I never could tell you then, either."

"Harry..."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh..." Hermione hmph'd for a moment, before leaning back on the couch. "You're infuriating sometimes."

"I know."

"Still love you to pieces, mind you, but you're infuriating."

"Thanks."

"Please tell me."

"It's... difficult."

Hermione leaned forward, taking hold of his chin and turning his head to face her. "Harry, you're probably the person I'm closest to in the whole world, Muggle _and_ magical. Please just tell me."

Harry sighed. "What do you remember about last night?"

Taking a moment to scan her memory, she realised that things became a bit hazy when she was on her fourth Slippery Nipple. "Well, I was drinking quite a bit, but things just get blurry after that."

"When I saw you, you were practically draped over that guy. I know you don't normally get that drunk... your 21st notwithstanding."

She blushed. "Okay, I remember you telling me how embarrassing that was."

Harry grinned at her. "It still makes me laugh now."

"Yes, I threw myself at anything male." Hermione groused softly. "I was... amorous all night. You've told me this."

"Right." Harry sobered up. "So, I know that you don't normally get that drunk. But, you were last night. So, I came over to see you. As soon as you saw me, you stumbled forward and practically threw yourself at me. I was... concerned.

"I did a test. You showed up positive for Rohypnol. I picked you up, brought you here and put you to sleep on the couch."

Hermione was still the smartest witch of her generation. "What did I say to you, Harry?" She asked tentatively. "You're being all diplomatic. I said something... embarrassing, didn't I? Oh, god... what did I say?"

Harry grimaced slightly. "Not... not exactly. I told you that you'd been spiked. Then you asked me if I was gonna shag you. I told you to sleep."

"Oh..." Hermione's cheeks were now bright red. "Sorry about that, Harry."

"It's okay."

"No." Hermione interrupted, pressing a hand gently against his thigh. "I realise that me saying stuff like that's not good. I'm sorry."

"That wasn't the problem." Harry said, his voice strained.

"Then what was?"

"I wanted to!" Harry blurted out. "God damn it, Hermione... you have _no_ idea what you do to me, do you?"

"No."

"Jesus... every time I see you, I just wanna drag you to bed!" Harry said, not noticing that Hermione's grip on his thigh was getting tighter. "As soon as you asked me that last night, I was nursing wood!" He frowned, looking down and pulling his head away from her hand. "You should probably let go..."

Hermione followed his glance, only now feeling just how tight she was holding onto him. "Oh..." She looked back up, seeing his face and neck burning. "Do you feel... guilty?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed. "I mean... you were lying there, all defenceless..."

"Right. I was there, defenceless." Hermione said. "Did I need a defence from you?"

"What? Of course not!"

"So, what's the problem?"

"I... I was so tempted, Hermione." Harry whispered. "You have no idea what you do to me..."

Hermione was beginning to get an idea. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Because you've never been interested."

"You've never shown me that you're interested."

"I've tried..." Harry whispered, looking despondently at his shoes. "For years, I've tried to be the nice, supportive guy. I'm... I'm not good with feelings, Hermione, you know that."

She nodded; she did know that. She'd seen him being pursued by a crowd of women and panicking. She'd seen him at their friends' weddings, looking lost and alone. And she realised that for almost ten years, he'd been there, supporting her. Showing her. And suddenly, she felt so very stupid.

"Oh, hell..." She muttered. "You've been dating me for years... and I've never noticed."

Harry shook his head despondently.

"All those trips out... movies, dinner, helping me shop for clothes... How could I have been so thick?"

Harry just shrugged.

"Why didn't you ever... right. The Dursleys." Hermione reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping it would help stave off her headache. She opened her eyes, spotting a pink vial in front of her, dutifully supplied by Harry. "Headache cure?"

"Of course."

It was things like this that made Hermione realise just what a sweet boyfriend he actually was... even if she'd never noticed. And suddenly, she felt so very bad. "Why, Harry?" She whispered softly, her voice sounding broken. "Why wait? Why didn't you find someone who deserved you?"

"Because it's always been you, Hermione." He whispered back, just as broken. "It's _always_ been you."

"Oh, Harry..." She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder. "All those times I complained about my dates being uncouth morons..."

"S'okay..." He muttered, resting his head on hers. "It didn't matter about me. Just so long as you were happy... it killed me each time you weren't."

Hermione looked up at him, _really_ looked at him. "It's probably because they weren't you, Harry. Be honest; how many blokes do you know who'd have been such a gentleman last night?"

Harry just shrugged gently.

"All this time... you've been there, waiting for me. Such a fool..."

"Hey..." Harry whined softly.

"Not you. Me. _I_ was a fool." She said despondently. "Are you... still interested?"

"Nursing wood last night, remember?"

"Ah..." Hermione sat up, leaning back. "Do you have any plans for the day?"

"No, nothing."

She made a decision. "Would you go out on a date with me, Mr. Potter?" She winced slightly. "A date where we both know it's a date, now that I've finally woken the hell up."

"What do you want to do?"

"I really don't care. I just wanna spend time with you. No pressures, just Harry and Hermione, on a date. How about a visit to Alton Towers, dinner then a movie?" She proposed.

Harry gave a weak smile. "Hermione, it's okay. You don't need to propose some kind of... of pity date. I know you're not-"

"I don't do 'pity dates', Harry." She informed him, after clamping her hand over his mouth. "I want to go on a date with my best friend. Yes or no, Harry."

"Yesh." He muttered into her hand, before licking her palm.

"Ack! Harry!"

* * *

After struggling to escape from Harry's couch again, Hermione proposed that she head back to her place, so she could shower and get some fresh clothes. Harry, ever the gentleman, offered to apparate her there, just in case she splinched herself. Once they arrived, Harry immediately broke away, heading into the kitchen to tackle the small mountain of washing up she had.

Even though her house was impeccably neat, the kitchen was always the sight of several cooking disasters. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't cook, and the ugly burn marks dotting the kitchen made that evident.

Smiling to herself, Hermione headed into the bedroom, quickly spotting the outfit she wanted to wear. A long, hot shower restored almost all of her humanity to her, and a quick visit to the bathroom, as well as an air-freshening charm, made her feel normal.

She dressed quickly, tossing a few items into her handbag, before pulling on a pair of boots, and tugging her jeans into place. Suitably attired, she headed into the kitchen, only to see Harry wiping the last piece of crockery, which he tucked neatly into the cupboard. He glanced up, spotting her wearing a tight white blouse and a pair of skinny jeans, with a pair of low-heeled boots. "Wow..."

"Thanks, Harry." Hermione said softly, blushing slightly. "You ready to go?"

He neatly folded the tea-towel, placing it on the radiator before holding out his arm. She took it, smiling at him as they disapparated away.

* * *

The day was truly outstanding; she rode the scary rides with Harry, clinging onto him at all the right moments (and several wrong ones, but neither of them was going to complain) before they headed into London for dinner.

Harry's name was dropped several times as they entered The Ivy, one of London's foremost restaurants. Harry watched, slightly entranced, as Hermione demolished a 32-oz steak, her body screaming for sustenance after her unfortunate drug encounter the previous evening. As she finished, she sighed happily.

"How..."

"'How' what, Harry?"

"How the hell did you eat that?"

She grinned at him. "Well, I cut it into bite-sized pieces, then I put them, one at a time, into my mouth-"

"Smart-arse."

"You love me really."

"I really do."

She blushed as she saw the sincerity in his eyes as he said that. Another happy sigh. "Harry..."

"So, what movie do you want to see?" He asked, trying to make her feel more comfortable.

"I'm sure you'll think of something good."

* * *

He did. He took her to see Notting Hill, a complete chick-flick. Bless his heart, he tried to get into it, but the lack of explosions and gunfire made it almost unwatchable to him. Hermione felt herself snuggling closer and closer to him as the movie progressed, smiling when she felt his arm go around her.

They left the cinema, holding hands, looking like any other young couple in love. They began walking towards an empty alley, so they could disapparate back to her place. As they got there, Hermione held up her hand. "Do you trust me?"

Harry nodded.

"Good." She took his hands and apparated them away.

Harry blinked, only to realise they were back in his living room. "Hermione?"

She stared up at him, _hard_. "You know... I never kiss on the first date, Harry."

"Okay..."

Slowly, she began to unbutton her blouse. "Then, I had a thought."

"O-Oh?" Harry's eyes were slowly dropping to the newly-uncovered... _Sweet Merlin, she's not wearing a bra!_

"In fact," Hermione continued, not looking at all uncomfortable, "you could almost call it a revelation."

"Yes..."

The shirt was shucked, Hermione jabbing her hands on her hips. "This isn't a first date, is it?"

Harry shook his head, entranced with the beautiful sight in front of him.

"We've been dating for years. I was just too stupid to realise."

"You're not stu-"

She stalked forward, jamming her hand over his mouth. "Don't lick my palm." She commanded, before softening slightly. "I was stupid, Harry. What I was looking for... was right in front of me. The perfect guy, right there. And I never noticed." She pushed him back onto the couch, watching him become boneless as she knelt before him. "Do you want me, Harry?"

"Yes..." He moaned softly, leaning forward to capture her lips in a kiss.

Hermione could feel Harry's hands tensing as she leaned up. "I won't break, Harry. Please..." She sighed into his mouth as he began stroking his hands up and down her back tenderly. While she was kissing him, her hands slowly moved forward, attacking the button on his jeans. He leaned back slightly, staring into her eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, god, yes!" She moaned, quickly attacking his lips again. She tugged pathetically at his jeans, only to squeak into his mouth as she finally got them down to his knees. She reached out with a trembling hand, taking hold of the newly-arisen monument to masculinity.

She took a deep breath and leaned forward, taking as much into her mouth as she could. She could hear and feel Harry moan, prompting her to look up with a naughty smirk. "Oh, Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Happy New Year."

Harry looked down at a sight he'd been waiting years to see; Hermione Granger being naughty. "You know... I think it will... be..." He trailed off as Hermione's head began to bob again, robbing him of thought.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So far, the voting's at 95.4 percent for "Birth of a Dark Lord" to be continued... I might have been fooling around with the next chapter a little... stay tuned.


	3. Open Wide the Gates of Time: Harry

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.  
**Author's Note:** This one-shot was inspired by AndrewsQuill's story "From the Ashes", a Harry/Susan Bones fic (by the look of it) where Hermione dies after the battle in the DoM. I've nicked the basic concept, 'cause it's one I've never thought of, tweaked it, and this is it. If you haven't read AndrewsQuill's stories, go and read them now, especially "Dark Lord Rising". It's an absolutely cracking story.

* * *

"_Silencio!_" cried Hermione and the man's voice was extinguished. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out. He was thrust aside by his fellow Death Eater.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forwards, face down on to the rug at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.

"Well done, Ha-"

But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand; a streak of what looked like purple flame passed right across Hermione's chest. She gave a tiny "Oh!" as though of surprise and crumpled on to the floor, where she lay motionless.

"_Hermione!_" Harry roared, forgetting everything that was happening around him as he saw her fall. He quickly bolted forward, near-throwing himself to his knees as he looked down at the wet mess that used to be smooth flesh.

He reached out with a shaking hand to her throat, feeling for her carotid artery. For a moment that lasted an eternity, he couldn't feel anything. He didn't notice Neville kneeling next to him, reach for the other pulse on Hermione's neck.

"Dat's a pulse, Harry..." Neville said after a moment. "I'b sure of it."

Harry didn't feel relief, as he expected he would. All he could feel was a mind-numbing, spirit-crushing despair at seeing Hermione casually dropped during the battle. He turned his head slightly, staring at the Death Eater with pure malice.

The Death Eater reached up and tore off his mask, revealing the long, pale, twisted face of Antonin Dolohov. He gestured at Hermione, then at Harry, then at Harry again. Even though he was still silenced, his meaning was clear.

Harry stood, his free hand clenching spasmodically as he stalked forward, intent on ending the scum-sucking dickhead. He was robbed of the chance as Neville managed his first non-verbal spell, sending a weak-but-adequate stunner spell at Dolohov's maniacally grinning face. He slumped backwards, out of the fight... for now.

Together, Harry and Neville picked up Hermione, having no time to be gentle, as they left the office, meeting up with Ron, Ginny and Luna. Thanks to the actions of the Death Eaters, they ended up in the Veil Chamber, and Harry's already grief-stricken heart took another blow as Sirius was blasted back through the Veil.

He didn't really pay much attention after that, chasing after Bellatrix and attempting his first unforgiveable curse. He didn't really care that he was possessed by Voldemort. What he _did_ care about was that Hermione was still there, lying on the floor of the Death Room, slowly bleeding out.

As soon as Dumbledore arrived, banishing Voldemort and fighting off Fudge's smarming attempts to quickly turn the story to his favour, Harry headed over to Hermione, only to be stopped by Dumbledore stepping in front of him, pressing something into his hands.

He felt a gut punch as the Portkey activated, whisking him away from the Department of Mysteries and back to the only place he'd ever called home.

* * *

He landed on the floor in Dumbledore's office, winding himself as he smacked onto the stone. He ignored the pain, lungs straining like bellows as he pushed himself up, heading straight for the door. Only one thing mattered to him now; Hermione. He _had_ to get to the Hospital Wing and see her. Do whatever he could to ease her pain and help her get better.

The door was locked. Not just locked, but _locked_. Sealed with spells that were far stronger than he knew how to break. Deciding on a quicker course of action, he threw a _Reducto_ hex at the door, ducking when the curse simply dissipated against the ancient wood. After a moment, a _Bombarda_, a _Diffindo_ and even an _Evanesco_ failed to open/remove the door.

Screaming with rage and frustration, he glanced about the office, looking for something he could use to physically break the door down and get to her. He didn't spot anything before the Floo activated, Dumbledore stepping through casually.

"Ah, Harry..." Dumbledore said amiably, heading over to Fawkes' perch and reaching into his pocket, pulling out the newly-regenerated phoenix and placing him on the shelf. Ignoring Harry's intense glares, he headed behind his desk, sitting down and steepling his fingers together. "Would you take a seat, my boy?"

"I want to check on Hermione." Harry said brusquely, not stepping away from the door.

"There's plenty of time for that later, my boy." Dumbledore said, gesturing politely at the chair in front of his desk. "For now, however, there are things we simply must discuss. Things I should have told you several years ago."

"I want to check on Hermione." Harry said again, his voice dropping to the 'shit, it's bloody freezing!' temperature range.

"In good time, Harry." Dumbledore said, a little more firmly this time. "Please, Harry, sit down. I have things that I simply must discuss with you, before we allow anything to get in the way."

Harry stared at the chair, then back at Dumbledore.

"If you prefer to stand, Harry, that is, of course, your choice." Dumbledore said, shrugging slightly and pulling a lemon drop from the bowl on his desk. "It's time I tell you everything... things I _should_ have told you five years ago."

"You mean when I _actually_ asked you at the end of first year?" Harry asked pointedly.

Dumbledore, naturally, didn't acknowledge this statement. "I must say, I know how you feel, Harry."

"I really doubt that." Harry said flatly, not removing himself from the doorway.

"You see, Dumbledore?" The portrait of Phineas Nigellus snarked loudly. "Children today think that they-"

He was cut off, not by Dumbledore saying anything, but the simple fact that his portrait burst into flame, quickly consuming the ancient canvas.

"What the-"

"Now that we've had this fascinating discussion," Harry said, not looking at all perturbed he'd just set fire to a rather irreplaceable painting, "I'd like to go and see Hermione. _Sir._"

"There's no shame in what you're feeling, Harry." Dumbledore said, trying to project as much feeling as he could.

"What I'm feeling, old man, is a rather heavy dose of anger towards you, not to mention an overwhelming concern for Hermione." Harry's glare was every bit as intimidating as Snape's, not to mention a lot more intense.

"I understand that, Harry." Dumbledore said heavily. "I'd like to explain, if you'll let me."

"And I'd like to see Hermione." Harry said, reaching out and trying the door again. "Let me out."

"No."

"Let. Me. Out."

"I have yet to explain, Harry." Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair. "I will not allow you to leave until I have explained my actions and you have accepted those reasons."

Harry glared for a moment. "Fine. Talk. Fast."

"It all begins-"

"I said 'fast', old man. This isn't it." Harry interrupted.

Dumbledore continued, ignoring Harry's interruption. "It is my fault that Sirius is dead."

"Yes, it is."

The old man winced slightly at the condemnation in Harry's words. "Would you care to tell me how you came to that conclusion?"

"Will you let me out to see Hermione if I do?"

"When we have finished our conversation." Dumbledore replied.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "It was _you_ who didn't tell me that Voldemort could send me visions. It was _you_ who kept Sirius locked up in that shit-hole hovel. It was _you_ who assigned Snape to teach me Occlumency, even though you know he and I _hate_ each other with a fiery passion. It was _you_ who ignored me all year. I hold you at least as much to blame as I do Bellatrix."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Yes... I do hold some small responsibility towards the actions of this evening. Not as much as you appear to have laid against me, Harry, but I would like to explain."

"Are you _ever_ going to get to a point?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Everything revolves around your scar. I suspected, fifteen years ago, that your scar represented a link between you and Voldemort."

"It does." Harry pointed out. "And don't you think this would have been information that _I_ needed?"

"More and more recently, I have noticed that you have begun to become... influenced, by Tom's moods. The terrible anger you've been feeling ever since last summer is not your own. At least, not entirely. The connection became far stronger when Voldemort used your blood in his resurrection ceremony. You began to slip into his mind, as he did to you earlier tonight."

"Bored now." Harry said, tugging discretely at the door.

"When you saw the attack on Arthur Weasley just before Christmas, I saw the true danger of the link between you and Voldemort... and this is the reason that I haven't spoken to you since last summer."

"Possession." Harry said after a moment. "And Legilimency. You were worried that he'd use me to get to you."

"In a word; yes." Dumbledore said.

"Well, that's great. Now, let me go and see Hermione."

"We haven't finished." The old man said sharply, feeling irritation begin to creep into his mind. "When we have finished, Harry, I will dismiss you."

"Then speak quickly."

"When you alerted Professor Snape about your vision, he immediately checked in at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, and found him to be hale and hearty."

"Did he." Harry said, then his eyes narrowed. "Kreacher... it was that little cum-stain who told me that Sirius had gone. He lied to me."

"He did." Dumbledore confirmed heavily. "As you are not Kreacher's master, he is able to lie to you."

"And I bet the little turd was laughing fit to fucking burst when he realised he'd sent Sirius to his death."

"Indeed."

"I'll kill him."

"I can't allow that, Harry." Dumbledore said. "Forgiveness for one's sins, even when they cost so much, is always to be strived for."

"So, _you_ forgive him. _I_, however, will wring his scrawny little neck next time I see him."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "That is something we will be able to discuss later. Moving on, as soon as we realised that you had gone to the Ministry, members of the Order made their way there, in hopes of protecting and extracting you from the danger."

"And they failed."

"They did not. They saved you from committing terrible crimes, Harry. There is a reason unforgiveable curses are so named."

"Get to the point, Dumbledore, or I'm going to become... annoyed."

"Because of the way that Sirius treated Kreacher-"

"Enough." Harry said, in a whisper that was louder in the office than any shout could be. "Do not talk about Sirius. You didn't know... you _couldn't_ know. He was a prisoner in that house. On _your _orders. Just like I was, last summer. You have a _lot_ to answer for."

"I know that." Dumbledore said simply. "I hold no foolish disbeliefs about the consequences of my actions, Harry."

"Good."

"However, it's time I told you _everything_." Dumbledore sighed for a moment. "I was there, when you were left on the doorstep of the Dursley residence. Indeed, it was I who arranged that placement. I knew that I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years. I hated that it had to be so, but there wasn't any other choice."

"It wasn't your decision to make."

"Your aunt, in accepting you into her home, sealed a set of very powerful protective wards that Voldemort could not breach. It was all based on your mother's love, a very powerful emotion. With that love, in combination with a set of blood-based wards, you are kept safe."

"They're shite." Harry said. "Petunia hates me. Always has. I hate her."

"But by accepting you into her home, the wards _were_ sealed."

"Whatever."

"Five years ago, you arrived here at the school. I could see that you'd suffered during your time away, but you were still hale and hearty. You weren't some arrogant, strutting peacock, but as normal a boy as I could hope for."

"Starved and beaten isn't 'normal', old man."

"At the end of that year, when you asked me about why Voldemort was coming for you, I declined to tell you. At that point, I cared for you too much. I saw you as a surrogate grandchild. How could I put the weight of the world on your shoulders at such a tender age?

"No, instead, I told myself that I would wait until you were older, stronger... more ready to accept the burden. So, your second year, your third year and your fourth year passed. The dangers you faced certainly made you stronger, more prepared for the war that was coming. And through all this time, I felt my love and affection for you growing. More and more, I didn't want to be the one to end your childhood."

"You did that by leaving me with the Dursleys."

Again, Dumbledore ignored the inconvenient truths he didn't want to hear. "The whole reason for this was a simple thing; a prophecy, given by Professor Trelawney shortly before you were born." The old man raised his wand, summoning his Pensieve from the small cupboard it resided in. His wand was pressed against his temple, pulling out a single, silver strand.

Once dropped into the Pensieve, a single, willowy figure rose up. "'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...'"

Harry nodded. "This is it... this is why Voldemort came after me... and why you left me with the Dursleys..."

"Yes. This single prophecy announces the one person in the world who can defeat Lord Voldemort... you, Harry."

As Harry looked at the old man, noticing the tears slowly trickling down that ancient face, he felt nothing but contempt.

"I feel I have to give you another explanation, Harry, about the prefect position... I simply thought you had enough to be dealing with."

"Well... that makes me feel so much better."

Dumbledore reached up with a conjured hanky, wiping his eyes. "There's one other thing we need to discuss this evening."

"Fast, Dumbledore."

"Your summer arrangements, Harry. With your victory in the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort will be gunning even more strongly for you. That means that you'll need to stay at the Dursleys for at least half of the summer holidays. Again, it will be necessary to restrict owl post while you're there. After that, you'll be able to go to the Burrow."

Harry shook his head. "Fine... now, let me out. I want to see Hermione."

Dumbledore raised his wand at the door, flicking slightly. Harry could hear the locks opening. He opened the door, intent on heading to see his best friend.

"Harry?"

Stiffening slightly, he turned to see Dumbledore looking pleadingly at him.

"Do you think you could ever forgive me?"

Harry's response was immediate, heart-felt and entirely accurate. "I hope I live just long enough to piss on your grave, old man." And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Harry raced through the corridors as though the hounds of hell were pursuing him. None of it mattered; he had to get Hermione.

He burst through the doors to the hospital wing, nearly tearing the ancient wood from its hinges.

"What the devil-" Pomfrey spluttered as she erupted from her office.

"Hermione..." Harry muttered, seeing her lying on his normal bed. She looked, for lack of a better word, dreadful. She was far too pale, the front of her medical gown shining in the low light with leaked blood.

"H-Harry..." Hermione moaned, trying to smile when she saw him coming in, but dissolving into a pained grimace.

Harry moved closer, taking her hand as he sat tentatively on the side of the bed. "Hermione..."

"Are you okay?" She asked, looking him up and down.

"Me? I'm... never mind me, Hermione. How're you?"

"It hurts, Harry." Hermione whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. "I... I'm sorry, Harry."

"Why?" Harry noticed his vision growing misty. Confused, he reached up to find his eyes leaking. He was _crying_? He hadn't cried since he was four years old...

"I... I should have done b-better." Hermione whispered plaintively. "I..."

Harry pressed his finger against Hermione's lips. "Shh... you did very well, Hermione. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you." He let his hand slip down slightly, cupping her cheek softly.

Hermione moaned, arching her back slightly as another wave of debilitating pain washed over her. "I... I don't have long..." She gasped.

"N-No..." Harry said, panic filling his voice. "You can't l-leave me, Hermione... You can't..."

"I don't think I have a choice, Harry." She whispered back. "I'm dying... I know it..."

"You can't..." Harry sobbed. "P-Please, Hermione, don't... don't leave me... I can't live without you..."

"You have no choice, Harry..." Hermione said, squeezing his hand tightly. "I-I have to tell you..." She coughed, blood coming from her mouth.

Harry reached up and calmly wiped the blood away. "Hermione, before you do... let me..."

"I k-know, Harry." She said, staring at his eyes. "You love me."

"I... do..."

"And I you, my love." She whispered. "For so long... you must go on, Harry... don't mourn me..."

"No..." Harry moaned. "Please, H-Hermione... everyone I love leaves me... don't leave me, please..."

She flailed her free hand for a moment, trying to take a hold of him. "L-last request..."

Harry took her flailing hand, kissing her knuckles tenderly. "Anything, my love."

"Kiss me, Harry... please... just once... let me feel your lips-" She was cut off as Harry leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers chastely. She moaned slightly, pressing forward before leaning back, opening her eyes slowly. "As good as I thought..."

Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her generation, died with a small smile on her face and the hand of the man she loved beyond reason held in her own.

Again, the tears prickled up in Harry's eyes, one slowly making it's way down his cheek. He felt... a cold, _aching_ numbness in his chest.

_Nothing..._ A thought formed and died in his mind. _There's nothing left... it's all gone... all of it..._ He could feel his magic roaring throughout his body, but he didn't care what it was doing. The hole of Hermione's death was deep and sharp, making him feel... _empty_.

* * *

From her vantage point, Poppy Pomfrey brushed away a tear, feeling a great sadness come over her. Like most of the teachers at Hogwarts, she'd never married or had children, but she felt that each of the children that passed through the doors and into her care were at least a little her own. Not of her body, but of her care and attention. One of the reasons she was so angry at poor Harry was the fact he was injured so often.

She looked up sharply when she felt an increase in the ambient magic. Her wand was in hand before she realised what was happening. Harry's clothing, his t-shirt, jeans and trainers were slowly turning black. It took her a moment to remember that was a Muggle custom; when in mourning, Muggles wear black. It wasn't really used as a Wizarding custom, but then, Harry _was_ Muggle-raised.

She glanced up when she saw the door to the hospital wing open. _Oh, shite..._ she thought, as she saw who entered.

* * *

"Harry?" Dumbledore strode forward, frowning at Harry's current choice of attire. "How is Miss Granger?"

Harry didn't look up. Didn't make any indication that he'd heard Dumbledore's inane question.

"Harry?"

"Headmaster, this way, please." Poppy said, calling the old man over to her. With a final glance at Harry, he ambled over.

"Yes, Poppy?"

"I'm afraid... I'm afraid Miss Granger passed away, Headmaster. The curse damage was simply to severe to deal with."

"Oh..." Dumbledore frowned. "This will cause complications..."

"'Complications', sir?" Poppy asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Hmm?" Dumbledore looked up. "Nothing, Poppy." _Yes... explaining to the Board of Governors as to how a student died, even though she's just a Muggleborn. This could have one of two effects; either driving Mr. Potter further away, or back to my side..._

As he looked up, he saw Harry neatly tucking the covers over Hermione, making sure that she was shielded from the cold. _I'd best let Harry know what needs to happen next._

"Harry?" Dumbledore called out as he approached, waiting for the young man to look up at him. Once he had Harry's attention, although he could certainly tell that it was not entirely there, he spoke softly. "I'm sorry to hear about Miss Granger, Harry. It's always a dreadful loss when one of our own is taken from us."

Harry blinked slowly, not registering what Dumbledore was saying.

"Yes... and this, coupled with Sirius' untimely demise. I'm truly sorry."

Slowly, Harry began to regain his senses. The empty feeling was still there, but more thoughts were being added all the time. _He... had he told me everything, we wouldn't have gone to the Ministry... Hermione would still be alive..._ Deep inside his body, on a level beyond human comprehension, new linkages formed, channelling more and more power through his body. It was subtle... at first.

"I will notify Miss Granger's parents immediately, so that arrangements may be made for her funeral."

Harry still didn't look up. _He kept me from coming here for almost half an hour... I could have had more time to say goodbye to her..._ The linkages increased, channelling enough magic every second to power every car in London for three years.

"Unfortunately, it will not be possible for you to attend, Harry. Your safety is far too important to squander on such an insignificant thing as a funeral."

The linkages began to shift, contort, change. More and more energy was thrumming through Harry's body. It changed, becoming more and more obvious to those around him.

"I will advise this, Harry; keep hold of those memories, and allow yourself to grieve. Your seclusion this summer will be an excellent time to mourn, coming back stronger for it."

Harry looked up, his eyes glowing green while he was surrounded by a thick aura. "Stop." He commanded sharply, cutting Dumbledore off instantly.

"Harry, my boy-"

"I said 'stop'." Harry intoned, his voice beginning to gain an echo in the large hospital wing. "_You_ did this."

"My dear boy, nothing could be further from the-"

"I said 'stop'." Harry repeated, making the slightest gesture at Dumbledore. His magic silenced Dumbledore instantly. "This is your fault, old man." His voice seemed stronger and more self-assured than anything Dumbledore had ever heard. "Had you done the right thing, and told me the things you _should have told me_, Hermione would still be alive."

"Harry, I have apologised for the things I kept from you, for your own good. You didn't need to be burdened with that kind of knowledge. I understand that this is your pain and grief talking, as it did back in my office earlier tonight, but you must allow yourself to mourn, and not burn bridges that cannot be rebuilt." Dumbledore tried a new angle. "I realise that you feel pain, and anger, but you must release those emotions for the Greater Good of the Wizarding world. You are needed."

"Yes, I am..." Harry said, standing up and releasing a wave of raw power. "And I will go where I am needed... but you will no longer pull my puppet strings, old man..."

Dumbledore straightened, the very model of an offended man. "Harry, I have never 'pulled on your puppet strings', and frankly, I am insulted at your statement."

"I no longer care."

"You do, Harry. You would not be in this great pain if you did not care."

"No." Harry said, extending his hand. His wand flew into it from his back pocket, waiting to be called into battle. "I would not be in this great pain if it wasn't for _you_." Instead of Harry pointing his wand at Dumbledore, it simply burst into flame, consuming itself in the fires of eternity. Instead, Harry just pointed, blasting Dumbledore back into the wall with a great wave of raw power.

"Mr... Potter..." Dumbledore moaned, trying to marshal his considerable resources and fight back. "You... must... stop this..."

"Oh, I intend to." Harry said, extending his other hand.

From another part of the castle, Dumbledore could heard the sound of the ancient stone walls being battered by something.

"_Enough!_" He roared, trying with all his might to break the power that Harry was holding him with. "_Stop this now!_"

"Oh, I will..." Harry promised evilly. "I just need to _finish _the job..."

The wall next to Dumbledore's head exploded into dust as _something_ flew through the wall, landing neatly in Harry's outstretched hand.

"Now..." Harry ended the onslaught against Dumbledore, letting the old man slump to the ground, near-dead. "Let's see..." _Hermione was my everything... even though I never proposed, she was my wife in my heart... give me this one..._

"_Open wide the gates of time,  
destroy the power of darkness' grime,  
Future, past and present collide,  
take me back to Hermione's side!_"

Dumbledore looked up in horror as he sensed the pure energies surrounding Harry, and his request. He tried to raise his wand, intent on ending this... spell? Ritual? It didn't matter. It had to be stopped.

Several forces competed at once; the will of fate, knowing that her chosen was asking to break the first law of time in order to carry out a prophecy she, herself, had made. Hogwarts, feeling her champion struggling against injustice, added her considerable power, shutting down the castle itself as every erg of the incredible power was rerouted to the hospital wing.

And Albus Dumbledore, a man who was convinced that he alone knew what had to be done. Fate, Hogwarts and Harry had no intention of letting the old man win _this_ pissing contest. Fate asked, and Hogwarts agreed. A magical self-destruction was triggered, Hogwarts allowing herself to die so that the world could continue.

Dumbledore glanced up as Harry vanished with a 'rip'. He heard the wall begin to crumble around him, feeling the ancient wards fall and the castle start to implode. Then he died. Then they all died.

* * *

Harry blinked as he found himself stood, once again, in the Department of Mysteries. Instantly, he willed himself to disappear from view, such concepts as spells being foreign to him now. Formalised spells were meaningless. He was vengeance, and pain, and love and power. There was nothing he couldn't do. He was truly an Angel of Death, content to visit his 'tender mercies' on those who would bring harm... to her.

In his hand, the Sword of Gryffindor sang to him, feeling another opportunity to end injustice. He knew how to wield the ancient blade, feeling power in everything he did. He stalked forward, spotting the past Harry and Hermione fighting against Antonin Dolohov and that nameless, faceless Death Eater.

Dolohov raised his wand.

"_Silencio!_" cried Hermione and the man's voice was extinguished. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out. He was thrust aside by his fellow Death Eater.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forwards, face down on to the rug at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.

"Well done, Ha-"

But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand; a streak of what looked like purple flame tore through the air... only to be casually deflected by something in between them, ricocheting into the air, where it sizzled impotently on the ceiling.

Harry stared, quickly taking Hermione's hand as he looked her up and down, making sure she was okay. Hermione, instinctively, knew what he was doing. "I'm fine, Harry..." She whispered, before turning her attention back to Dolohov.

Said minion was looking confused, wondering just what the hell was going on. That expression, one of scared confusion, was permanently etched onto his face as an invisible blade neatly bisected his neck, causing his head to topple forward while his body slumped backwards.

Harry fought an urge to retch as the newly decapitated corpse still squirted blood for a few moments.

"I... I think we should get the hell out of here..." He said to Hermione, who, as usual, was in complete agreement.

Together, the two left, not looking back at the Death Eater was who was still petrified on the floor.

"You know, Jugson..." A gravelly voice said emotionlessly from right next to his ear. "You're having a very bad day. If Dumbledore were here, he'd be trying to bring you back to the light... but me? I'm going to eviscerate you, and let you die in a puddle of your own body parts."

Jugson looked down as he felt a burning pain in his stomach. He couldn't see the weapon that was wielded, but he could see the results as his clothing and flesh was neatly carved away.

"W-Why..." He managed to gasp.

"Because you tried to hurt _her_." The voice whispered. "And for even _thinking_ of it, you must die."

Jugson couldn't get enough breath to scream as his intestines flopped out of his body onto the floor, leaving him to slowly die.

The Angel of Death grabbed the fallen wand, stood up, absently wiping the grisly sword on Jugson's trouser leg. "Work, work, work..." He chuckled softly, and began to look for his next victim.

* * *

Harry and Hermione met up with Neville, who was still sporting a splattered nose, but otherwise still able to fight.

"Neville, let me look at your nose." Hermione said, pointing her wand. "_Episky!_"

Neville's eyes began watering as his nose was forced back into shape and healed. "T-Thanks..." He gasped.

"Anyone seen the others?" Harry asked.

"Harry!" Ginny called out, leaning heavily on Luna. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..."

"I... I thought I heard something." Ginny said, wincing as her broken ankle twinged angrily.

"I think there's something else here." Harry said, glancing round. "Something... dangerous."

"To us?" Neville asked, wiping blood away from his mouth.

"No..." Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared at a particular patch of wall. "Not to us..."

"Correct." The wall said. "Now, come with me. There's more work to be done here tonight." A wand appeared, floating over to Neville. "Take it, and let's go."

"Er... the wall's speaking." Ginny said.

"No... I think there's someone disillusioned there." Hermione said, squinting in the darkness, looking for the characteristic shimmer that disillusionment produced.

"Head to your right." The voice called again. "Ron's in the brain room. Do us all a favour and stop him playing with them, will you?"

The group of five, plus one hidden, made their way along the corridor, finding Ron sitting behind a shelf full of brains. "Hey, Harry!" Ron announced loudly.

A bolt of bright purple erupted from the shadows, making Ron cough, roll over and begin vomiting.

"Ew..." Ginny groused.

"He'll feel better in a moment." The voice called out. "Get up him, clean him up and get him moving."

Ron was onto dry heaving by now, coughing weakly. Hermione conjured him a glass of water, which he accepted with a grateful nod. After he gargled and spat a few times, he drained the glass, dropping it to the floor as he pulled himself up. A breath-freshening charm and a _Scourgify_ later, he felt much better.

"What the hell's going on?" He asked, pulling his wand from his robes and looking round. "The last thing I remember, I blew up Pluto..."

"Head out." The voice called from near the doorway. "Bellatrix Lestrange is coming... and she's mine."

"Whoa... who's that?" Ron asked.

"You don't want to know." The voice called, opening one of the doors with an invisible gesture. "Head this way."

The six, with their invisible Angel, made their way through the Department of Mysteries, heading for, hopefully, the exit.

"There!" A voice cried, as three sets of footfalls sounded in the corridor. "Potter's there! Get him!"

Just in front of the group, another door opened. "In here!" The voice commanded. "Quickly! Seal the door behind you and keep heading along that corridor!"

Seeing no reason to discount the voice, Harry led his friends into the next corridor, closing the door and sealing it with a _Colloportus_. They quickly made their way up the passage, opening the next door and bustling through, again sealing it behind them.

Luna looked up and gasped; they were in the Veil Room. "Harry..."

"We have to get out of here!" Neville, Ron and Ginny said in unison.

A faint 'pop' alerted them to the arrival of someone by apparition. "Go over to the right, get down. The Death Eaters will be coming in the door to our left in just under thirty seconds. Prepare for a fight."

Again, there was no reason to distrust the voice. The 'Ministry Six' headed behind one of the raised plinths, aiming their wands at the door that the voice had pointed out to them.

Almost as if on-cue, the door burst open, Death Eaters quickly making their way into the room, wands raised, looking for the students. "Where are they?" Bellatrix said with a definite pout.

"They're safe." The voice said, slowly moving towards them. "You, on the other hand, are going to die." It was chilling how emotionlessly that voice spoke.

"Who's there?" Bellatrix demanded.

"It doesn't matter." The voice replied. "If it helps, think of me as... the sound of inevitability. Think of me as the sound of your death."

Bellatrix turned to her men. "Find the students. Find Potter. Get the prophecy."

Rodolphus and Rastaban Lestrange, Bellatrix's husband and brother-in-law, quickly moved forward, intent on finding the students. Bellatrix stood by the door, waiting to see what'd happen.

Rodolphus glanced up, seeing nothing in front of him. With a gasp, he glanced down to see the faint shimmer of disillusionment... as something was sticking out of his chest. He gasped, feeling some kind of fluid enter his lungs.

"Tell me, Rudy," The voice whispered soothingly in his ear, "what it feels like to know that you're a dead man walking?"

"B-Bella..." Rodolphus gasped, gaining the attention of his wife.

"No!" Bellatrix scream as she saw the blood trickling from his chest. She could see that whatever had stabbed him was still inside. It was pulled back, dropping her husband to the floor with a wet crack. She quickly made her way over, intent on seeing how she could help. True, she was a despotic monster who was truly incapable of love or pity, but Rodolphus was one of the Dark Lord's inner circle.

She saw a flash of light as several people apparated into the Death Room. More Death Eaters were entering the chamber, along with more members of the Order. The fight was just beginning...

* * *

Sirius entered the battle with a healthy blood lust pounding through his veins. His godson was here, and he needed help. He quickly spotted Bellatrix kneeling next to her bastard of a husband.

"Lestrange!" Sirius called out, raising his wand. "We have a Black family matter to deal with!"

Bellatrix grabbed her wand and began to fight, sending a series of medium-power hexes at her cousin.

Sirius dodged, ducked and weaved, clearly enjoying himself in the duel. A streak of red light passed by his head, making his dodge to the left. "Come on!" He goaded. "You can do better than that!"

Another red beam erupted from her wand, impacting heavily on Sirius' chest, making him stagger backwards... towards the veil... until something bodily impacted him, sending him tumbling of the dais and collapse to the ground. A moment later, he was surrounded by active magic as something levitated him towards a plinth. He was still a little woozy... until he saw Harry, reaching out to help pull him in.

"Are... are you okay?" Harry asked, looking his godfather up and down.

"Yeah..." Sirius groaned, feeling a stiffness in his chest. "She just tried to stun me."

Harry hugged Sirius as tightly as he could with one arm, while the other attempted to crush Hermione's hand. "You... you almost left me tonight... both of you..."

Sirius, although widely thought of as an immature prankster, wasn't nearly as dumb as he portrayed. "We're not going anywhere, pup." He said, hugging Harry with one arm and pulling Hermione into a three-way hug with the other. "We'll stand with you..."

Ginny prodded Ron with her elbow, pointing him towards the hug. "Finally!" He whispered. "I thought those two would _never_ figure it out."

"You know, teaspoon boy, you're getting better." Ginny whispered back. "All we need know is a girlfriend for you, and you might just progress up to a tea cup."

"Thanks." Ron whispered back.

* * *

"Lestrange!" A voice bellowed from the plinth.

Bellatrix stopped chasing Tonks around and looked up. Her mouth dropped open as she saw the ripple of something becoming visible... It was _who_ she saw. "N-No..."

* * *

Hermione squeaked as she saw a second Harry stood in front of the Veil. "Harry!" She hissed urgently.

Harry and Sirius turned, paling as they saw a second 'Boy-Who-Lived' before them. "That's different..." They whispered together.

* * *

The Angel of Death was pissed. "You tried to kill my family, Lestrange. You tried to break me. You must be punished."

"Oh... is wittle Potty gonna twy and hurt me?" Bellatrix taunted.

"No. Not 'twy'." A beam of sickly yellow light erupted from the palm of his hand, streaking across the Death Room to impact Bellatrix heavily. Her scream spoke of a pain so great, of a _terror_ so great it was enough to shock the other Death Eaters. Most of them stopped fighting, allowing the Order personnel to subdue them quickly.

After a moment, the beam was broken. "Run, Bella." The Angel commanded softly.

The mad woman's tattered synapses started firing randomly, wanting to complete her mission, wanting to please her lord, wanting to avoid the pain.

The Angel spoke with a loud voice, utterly emotionless, sounding all the more damning for it. "Run for your _life!_"

Bellatrix ran.

In the meantime, the Angel of Death stepped off the plinth, moving over to the bound form of Lucius Malfoy. "So, Malfoy... you led this mission." He sounded almost like he was enjoying a polite conversation.

Even though he was trussed up like a chicken, the Malfoy patriarch was as imperious as ever. "The Dark Lord will kill you for your transgressions, boy."

The Angel of Death cocked his head slightly. "It's certainly a possibility." He allowed. "'Tis only a shame you won't be alive to see it."

"You think the incompetent Aurors will harm me?" Malfoy laughed evilly. "No... one payment to the Minister, and I'll be released, proven to have been here under the Imperius curse."

"You assume that you're getting out of this room alive." The Angel replied, kneeling down. His voice became far more menacing that Voldemort's ever was. "An entirely wrong assumption, I assure you."

The soft-spoken way these words were spoken made them all the more damning to Malfoy. "But... you're part of the Order! They don't kill their prisoners!"

"I'm not part of the Order, Malfoy." He stood, staring down. "And you're right; I don't kill prisoners. I do, however, exterminate vermin. Now... _die!_" Malfoy flashed green as his magical core was turning into a very potent _Avada Kedavra_, his own magic killing him.

Moody cleared his throat. "What did you do? Why would you kill him, Potter? He was down..."

"And now he's out, Mad-Eye." The Angel replied quietly, turning to face the rest of the prisoners. "I have no conscience or mercy you can appeal to. I cannot be intimidated and I cannot be bought. I am justice." A small smile crossed his face as he raised both hands, focussing a tiny fraction of his magnificent powers towards the Death Eaters. "I am _Death!_" Each of them died as their magic was poisoned. "Now... Bellatrix."

The Angel of Death had so far scored a perfect record, with eleven of the twelve Death Eaters dead. He vanished silently, leaving Moody to preside over chaos. The instant the second Potter was gone, Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, wand raised, prepared for battle.

"What..." Dumbledore trailed off as he realised that the people he was here to save didn't need saving at all. Damn... that ruined his entrance. "What happened?"

Behind Moody, the six children and Sirius (although some would undoubtedly argue that there were _seven_ children) quickly rose up, heading for the door. "We have to get moving!" Sirius near-shouted, racing through the corridors.

* * *

Bellatrix raced through the corridors as though the hounds of hell were pursuing her. And in a manner of speaking, they were. What she'd faced that evening was beyond her frame of reference. She'd been tortured by the most powerful Dark wizard in history on multiple occasions, giving her the most powerful orgasms she'd ever had in her life.

But even the Dark Lord's most powerful Cruciatus couldn't begin to compare to the raw agony she felt when the second Potter had waved his hand at her. It felt like her entire body was composed of raw nerve endings, being dipped in boiling hot lava.

She sighed with relief as she entered the atrium. The Floo fireplaces. She could use those to escape. She was about to run into one, when she felt a crack in her waist. A moment later, agony began to make itself known.

She slumped to the ground, feeling the agony double as she hauled herself round. Stood less than ten feet in front of her was that blasted second Potter.

"Did I say you could leave?" He asked mockingly. "It'll be harder now... that crack you felt? That was me crushing your hips."

"You... the Dark Lord will... will come for me!" Bellatrix gasped.

"Yes." The Angel replied, smirking evilly. "I'm counting on it."

"He will... kill..."

"He'll _try_." The Angel corrected sharply. "But, he'll fail." He looked up as he heard the Order making their way ever closer. "Still, time draws near, Bellatrix... you must _suffer!_"

She began screaming as the lava flowed over her again, lighting up her nervous system like a Christmas tree.

"Stop!" Dumbledore bellowed from the doorway. "You must not do this!"

"Silence, old man." The Angel said, not even looking over his shoulder. "She has committed her crime... now she must 'serve her time'."

"This is wrong!" Dumbledore said, raising his wand. "She will be arrested and tried under the law!"

"Not my law." The Angel replied. "In fact... time to _die!_"

Bellatrix stopped screaming as her body flashed green for a moment, her magic converted like the other Death Eaters.

"What have you done?" Dumbledore roared, stepping forward with his raised wand.

"I said 'silence', old man." The Angel replied, turning and walking over to Harry and Hermione. "I have something for each of you."

"Who are you?" Harry asked, looking into a face identical to his own.

"I am... it doesn't matter." The Angel replied, pressing a finger against his temple, slowly pulling it back to reveal a silver strand. "I give you this, so that you need not suffer as I have." He pressed his finger against Harry's temple, allowing the memory strand to be absorbed into it. He repeated the procedure on Hermione, who began sobbing as she saw the scene that had caused everything.

Instantly, Hermione turned to Harry, grabbing a hold of the side of his head and kissing him with every ounce of passion she possessed.

"Is this really the right time for that?" Lupin asked, standing close to Sirius. "There _are_ single people here, you know."

Tonks saw the opportunity and pounced, smooching the werewolf to a standstill. "There _were _single people, wolfie... but not for long."

Hermione pulled back, looking at Harry intently. "We'll have to talk later."

"Yeah..." Harry gasped, looking completely shell-shocked at his first _proper_ kiss. "Later..." He shook his head, bringing himself firmly back to the present. "He's coming, then?"

"Yep." The Angel replied, staring at a particular point on the far wall. "Moony, put Tonks down, please. Might need your wits about you in the next couple of minutes." After a moment, the Angel cocked his head. "Hands in your pockets, Tonks." Beat. "Your _own_ pockets, Tonks. Unless you really are counting his pocket change, and not just looking for a couple of Knuts."

"What is going on here?" Dumbledore demanded angrily. "I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the-"

"Weren't you removed from those posts?" Hermione asked innocently. "Doesn't that make you '_Mr_. Dumbledore'?"

Dumbledore glared at Hermione. "You should hold you tongue, Miss Granger. I _am_ the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and if you're not careful, you may find yourself looking for alternate schooling!"

Hermione shrugged, not particularly bothered by the threat, especially considering what she'd learned this evening.

A swirling black cloud of apparition announced the arrival of the self-styled 'Lord' Voldemort. He blinked in confusion as he saw so many witches and wizards waiting for him, which rapidly mutated to shock as he saw his most powerful Death Eater, not to mention his favourite, lying on the floor, clearly dead.

"So..." He began, only to trail off as he realised he didn't have a clue what to say.

"I've come here to kill you, Thomas." The Angel said, raising the glowing blade in his hand.

"So many have... tried... who are you?" Voldemort stared for a moment, before a flash of silver gained his attention. He looked down, seeing the still-quivering Sword of Gryffindor buried hilt-deep in his chest. Black blood was starting to trickle from the sides of the wound, and he felt the purity of the blade begin to ache. "You..."

The Angel was stalking forward, eyes glowing like fog lights. "You have committed so many misdeeds... I may not kill you, Thomas, but I'm going to make you regret _ever_ coming after the Potter family." He raised both hands, the sickly yellow beams of the Cruciatus erupting, splashing against Voldemort.

Pain... unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Even when he'd been disembodied in 1981, he'd never felt pure agony like this before. This power was at least an order of magnitude above his own, and he was undoubtedly the most powerful Dark wizard alive.

It had been said that Lord Voldemort was only afraid of one man; Albus Dumbledore. Now, Dumbledore had company.

While the beams were ravaging the Dark Lord, the Angel of Death was making his way closer and closer. When he was close enough to reach out and touch the despotic monster, the Angel broke the beams. Voldemort instantly collapsed to his knees, his battered central nervous system incapable of keeping him on his feet.

"Who... who a-are you?" Voldemort asked.

"Death." With that, the Angel grabbed Voldemort's shoulders, dragging him to his feet and pulling him into a bear hug. "And now we die." The Angel closed his eyes, sending a very particular command to his magic.

The atrium of the Ministry of Magic was vaporised as the Angel of Death exploded. It was only the work of Harry, Hermione and Sirius raising shields that saved their lives.

* * *

In the aftermath, when supportive charms and beams had been conjured and placed, things were looking a whole lot better. Voldemort had been found, still breathing, and instantly apparated away... leaving behind his wand arm and wand. Harry snapped the cursed thing, feeling a rush of joy go through him as he destroyed his parents' murder weapon.

The Ministry personnel had come streaming in, seeing the down-but-not-out Dark Lord apparating away. Amelia Bones had immediately called for a vote of no-confidence in the silly bastard, sending a grinning Percy Weasley away to organise the paperwork. Harry and Hermione realised, at that moment, that Percy wasn't loyal to Fudge; he was loyal to good government. If only they could remove that colossal stick from his arse, he might actually turn out to be a good guy. In dire need of getting laid (and possibly a spanking... or maybe combining those two...), but he'd be okay.

Harry and Hermione knew that Amelia would be politicking for the rest of the night, and neither of them could be bothered dealing with such an irritating subject. Together, they strode forward, heading for the fireplace so they could Floo back to Hogwarts.

"One moment." Dumbledore called out sharply. "Mr. Potter, I have things I need to discuss with you. Miss Granger, you may return to Hogwarts."

"Or, we'll both go to Hogwarts and speak there." Harry said sharply, the encounter his other self had with Dumbledore firmly in mind.

"This is not to the time to be childish, Harry." Dumbledore said reprovingly. "There are things we need to talk about. A _private_ conversation."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who blushed and nodded. "There isn't anything I keep from Hermione, Headmaster. My..." He trailed off, prompting her to nod again. "My fiancé and I tell each other everything."

"'Fiancé?" Dumbledore repeated, looking shocked. "Mr. Potter, you don't... we'll discuss this back at Hogwarts. _Privately._"

"Of course, sir." Harry said, surprising Dumbledore. "Just the three of us."

Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry, turning his belt buckle into a Portkey. "No, Mr. Potter. Just the two of us. _Activate!_"

As Harry felt the 'hook in gut' sensation, he could feel Hermione's magic reaching out and mixing with his, taking her along for the ride. The pair of them vanished from the former atrium.

* * *

Together, they landed in Dumbledore's office, nearly splatting onto the ancient stone floor. Harry was on his feet in an instant, holding out his hand to help Hermione up. Together, they made their way to the couch that rested underneath the window. They slumped, wrapping various body parts around the other.

"So..." Hermione began. "You came back for me."

Harry nodded, slowly assimilating the knowledge in his mind. "You would have done the same for me."

"True." Hermione said slowly. "I'm..."

"What?"

"Well..." She looked a little uncomfortable at what she was about to say. "You killed twelve people for me tonight, Harry."

"I suppose... in a manner of speaking..."

"I know it was a different you, Harry, but..."

Harry sighed. "You're scared of me." It wasn't a question.

"No." Hermione protested immediately, making Harry look at her sharply. "No, it wasn't that, Harry. It's just... well, a bit daunting to know that the man you love," she smiled as she saw him beam at her, "is willing to destroy the world for you. That other you... damn, he was just so..."

Harry's eyebrow shot up.

"Oh, please!" Hermione snorted. "Please tell me you're not jealous of yourself."

"Little bit."

"Harry, my dear, sweet Harry, you're an idiot sometimes."

"I've been told that."

"You are everything I could want you to be." She blushed slightly. "Of course, if you ever feel like giving me a... private performance of that side of you..."

"Ooh..." Harry felt his own cheeks warm up, but there was only a limited amount of time to get in the truly important mocking. "We've only just admitted how we feel about each other, and you're planning kinky games already."

"Harry!" Hermione managed an offended look. "I'm hurt!"

"Sorry." He said, unrepentant.

"No... I've been planning kinky games for _years_." She giggled at his momentary 'deer-in-headlights' look. "Trust me, my love..."

"Without question."

"You'll greatly enjoy my perversion, Harry." Hermione promised, smiling at him as she reached up to gently stroke his face.

"I have no doubt... smartest witch of her generation, you know..."

"Not to mention probably one of the most devious..."

"Seconded."

"I... I truly do love you, Harry." She said, leaning closer and resting her forehead against his. "With everything that I am, I love you."

Harry reached, cupping both of her cheeks as he moved closer. "And I you, my love. My heart belongs to you... as it always has."

Hermione, at that point, uttered words that Harry _really_ didn't want to hear. "What about Cho?" With a groan, Harry looked down. Hermione reached up, pushing his head back up. "Harry."

"Well... I... I thought you wanted Ron." He whispered.

"Ron? Why'd you think that?"

Harry sighed, before pulling one of his hands free and extending a finger. "When we stopped fighting after the Firebolt incident, you hugged Ron, not me." A second finger. "When we thought that Buckbeak had been executed, you hugged Ron, not me." He extended a third finger. "On the evening of the Yule Ball, you were angry at Ron not taking you, not at me. You spent most of the summer with him before I got there-"

Hermione stopped him speaking by kissing him passionately. After a moment, she pulled back. "I... I never thought of it that way. Harry, me and Ron spoke, during that summer, when he revealed he fancied me. I pointed out, quite rightly, that he treats me _exactly_ the same way he treats Ginny. I'm his sister, Harry, not his love interest."

"Oh..." Harry stared into her eyes for a moment. "But... if you love me, why didn't you ever say?"

"Because I was afraid, Harry." She whispered. "You're gorgeous, rich and famous... why the hell would you ever love a mousy little bookworm like me?"

"Because you're a gorgeous mousy little bookworm with a filthy mind and a cracking body." Harry retorted instantly. "And you're not that mousy... Christ, you gave me my first erection when you hugged me in Diagon Alley before second year... and my first wet dream. Not to mention making me really horny when you smacked Malfoy that time."

"_That_ made you horny?"

"Seeing Valkyrie!Hermione in action? Oh, hell, yeah!"

"Hmm... have to remember that one. We're both idiots, Harry."

"You're not."

"Shut up and kiss me." Hermione commanded, leaning closer and capturing Harry's lips with her own. Unable to resist a base impulse, she reached down to Harry's lap, groping gently for the thing she most wanted in the world. She squeaked, which Harry matched a moment later, when her hand found an impressive bulge in Harry's jeans.

"Hermione..."

"That's _mine_ later." She said firmly.

"Always."

"And don't you forget it."

"You're still holding it... not likely to forget it."

"And, you're free to do whatever you want to me, too." Hermione said, feeling Harry's lips begin to grin. "Behave, Harry. Dumbledore'll be here soon."

Harry grumbled as he pulled back, thinking as many uncomplimentary things about ugly people (Snape, Fudge, Malfoy, Voldemort, Umbridge) to rid himself of his arousal. It was rather difficult... considering Hermione hadn't let go and was now absently stroking him. "Hermione... please..."

"What?" Hermione asked innocently. "I think he's pleased to see me."

"Yes, he has a joyful tear in his eye." Harry said dryly. "But, if you keep doing this, he's going to spit at you."

Hermione's grin could be described in no other way than 'wicked'. "My tongue is just _aching_ for that, Harry."

Harry began coughing. "Please..."

"Oh..." Hermione, reluctantly, released her hold on her newest toy. "All right... for now."

"I'm the son of one Marauder and the godson of another... I will get you back, you know."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"I'm thinking the library... no, Snape's potions class!"

Hermione blushed. "I've stopped..."

"Too late. Just picture the scene..."

Whatever Harry was going to suggest was cut off as the fireplace roared green for a moment, the old man stepping through. "Ah, Harry..." Dumbledore said amiably, heading over to Fawkes' perch and reaching into his pocket, pulling out the newly-regenerated phoenix and placing him on the shelf. "We have much to discuss. Miss Granger, you're dismissed."

"I'm staying with Harry." Hermione said firmly.

"This is a private conversation." Dumbledore retorted, equally firmly, as he sat behind his desk.

"Not from her." Harry said, adding his two pence to the conversation. "Whatever concerns me concerns her."

"Not this."

"There's _nothing_ you could say that Hermione won't be privy to." Harry said bluntly. "If you're not prepared to discuss it with her present, then we have nothing to discuss. May we leave?"

"Miss Granger may leave, but you and I, Harry, have much to discuss."

"No, we don't."

"We do. For instance, who was that other person in the Ministry? What did he give you?"

"Good questions that, frankly, I refuse to answer."

"I need to know, Harry." Dumbledore said, popping a lemon drop into his mouth. "For the Greater Good of the Wizarding world. Now, please tell me."

"No."

Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I've had a... stressful evening, Harry, trying to smooth over your actions with the Ministry. This is not the time to be childish. Tell me who that other person was."

"No."

"I have an idea." Hermione said, leaning closer to Harry. "Why don't you tell Harry and myself why Voldemort was there this evening?"

"That is confidential information, Miss Granger. At this moment in time, only I know the precise reason. It's something that I can only discuss with Harry, when you're not present."

"Oh..." Hermione glanced at Harry, performing a silent countdown from three. At 'one', the both began speaking in perfect unison. "'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...'"

Dumbledore's jaw dropped. "What... how..."

"I think we're done here." Harry said, hauling himself and Hermione to their feet. "You said earlier that Hermione would be expelled from Hogwarts. That won't be necessary... since we've both decided to leave this school as soon as the year is over. Since that's a whopping four days away, we'll stick around."

Dumbledore shook his head woodenly. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave Hogwarts, Harry... Miss Granger, you're more than welcome to go, but you'll be remaining here, Harry. Since you know of the prophecy, you know that you must be trained to fight the coming darkness."

"And I also know that you're a manipulative old man who has plans to use me in this war. I'm not a puppet, old man. I'll fight, in my own way and on my own terms." Harry said sharply. "You've lost me... I wonder what'll happen when the 'Boy-Who-Lived' announces that he's leaving Hogwarts."

Dumbledore still had one more card to play. "As your magical guardian, I can forbid you from leaving-"

"_You_ are not my magical guardian."

"Nor mine." Hermione added.

"Sirius holds that for both of us... we asked him last Christmas." Harry said, smirking slightly. "Had he died tonight, it probably would have reverted to you... shame. You lost. Now, we're leaving, and you _won't_ stop us."

They approached the door, taking hold of each other's hands, and raising their wands. Without a word, the door vanished neatly. Hermione stepped through, stopping when she felt Harry stay still. "I hope, Headmaster, that we do not see each other again. For your sake."

"I-"

"Save it. Sooner or later... the day comes when you can't hide from the things you've done anymore. That day's today." Harry snapped, then remembered what his other self had said in the previous timeline. "I hope I live just long enough to piss on your grave." He strode out, leaving Dumbledore sitting, sobbing, at his desk.

* * *

They made their way slowly back to Gryffindor tower. Neither of them knew what the future held, but they knew there was nothing they couldn't face. Together.

**

* * *

**

Final Author's Note:

Why did you read this one? Didn't I say to go and read AndrewsQuill's stuff? Seriously, go on... 


	4. Open Wide the Gates of Time: Dumbledore

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

**Author's Note:** This one-shot was inspired by AndrewsQuill's story 'From the Ashes', a Harry/Susan Bones fic (by the look of it) where Hermione dies after the battle in the DoM. I've nicked the basic concept, 'cause it's one I've never thought of, tweaked it, and this is it.

**Second Author's Note:** A variation on 'Open Wide the Gates of Time: Harry'. Morbius, during one of our many IM chats, once asked me; "Has anyone done a Good!Dark!Dumbledore?" So, we put our heads together (which, oddly enough, made a plank) and figured out that the only one we'd seen was actually one of KafkaExMachina's drabbles, where Dumbledore uses the Cruciatus on Snape's Dark Mark, fragging the minds of every Death Eater. So, this is the _other_ version of 'Open Wide the Gates of Time', where Dumbledore's not as much of an arsehole... I know, it's hard to believe, but them's the breaks.

* * *

"_Silencio!_" cried Hermione and the man's voice was extinguished. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out. He was thrust aside by his fellow Death Eater.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forwards, face down on to the rug at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.

"Well done, Ha-"

But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand; a streak of what looked like purple flame passed right across Hermione's chest. She gave a tiny "Oh!" as though of surprise and crumpled on to the floor, where she lay motionless.

"_Hermione!_" Harry roared, forgetting everything that was happening around him as he saw her fall. He quickly bolted forward, near-throwing himself to his knees as he looked down at the wet mess that used to be smooth flesh.

He reached out with a shaking hand to her throat, feeling for her carotid artery. For a moment that lasted an eternity, he couldn't feel anything. He didn't notice Neville kneeling next to him, reach for the other pulse on Hermione's neck.

"Dat's a pulse, Harry..." Neville said after a moment. "I'b sure of it."

Harry didn't feel relief, as he expected he would. All he could feel was a mind-numbing, spirit-crushing despair at seeing Hermione casually dropped during the battle. He turned his head slightly, staring at the Death Eater with pure malice.

The Death Eater reached up and tore off his mask, revealing the long, pale, twisted face of Antonin Dolohov. He gestured at Hermione, then at Harry, then at Harry again. Even though he was still silenced, his meaning was clear.

Harry stood, his free hand clenching spasmodically as he stalked forward, intent on ending the scum-sucking dickhead. He was robbed of the chance as Neville managed his first non-verbal spell, sending a weak-but-adequate stunner spell at Dolohov's maniacally grinning face. He slumped backwards, out of the fight... for now.

Together, Harry and Neville picked up Hermione, having no time to be gentle, as they left the office, meeting up with Ron, Ginny and Luna. Thanks to the actions of the Death Eaters, they ended up in the Veil Chamber, and Harry's already grief-stricken heart took another blow as Sirius was blasted back through the Veil.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was many things... but a fool wasn't one of them. True, he was incredibly short-sighted, and he focussed entirely too much on one plan at a time, making him... unprepared to deal with rapidly changing circumstances. And these certainly qualified.

He made his way to Hermione's slumped body, tapping her robes with his wand to send her straight to the hospital wing.

"Harry... Harry!" He called out, making Harry's bloodshot eyes lock on hers. "Come on, my boy... we'll take the Floo back to Hogwarts to check up on Miss Granger." He helped Harry to the fireplace. "Kingsley!" He called out.

"Headmaster?"

"Please ensure the rest of the students make it back to Hogwarts as quickly as possible."

With that, Dumbledore and Harry vanished in a blasé of green fire.

* * *

Once back at Hogwarts, Harry raced through the corridors as though the hounds of hell were pursuing him. None of it mattered; he had to get Hermione. Dumbledore was running right beside him, somehow managing to keep pace with the man less than a tenth of his age.

They burst through the doors to the hospital wing, nearly tearing the ancient wood from its hinges.

"What the devil-" Pomfrey spluttered as she erupted from her office.

"Hermione..." Harry muttered, seeing her lying on his normal bed. She looked, for lack of a better word, dreadful. She was far too pale, the front of her medical gown shining in the low light with leaked blood.

"H-Harry..." Hermione moaned, trying to smile when she saw him coming in, but dissolving into a pained grimace.

Dumbledore quickly headed over to Pomfrey. "How is she?" He asked, concern leaking into his voice.

Pomfrey leaned closer. "She's in a bad way, Albus... that spell pierced her heart. Unfortunately, the flesh was badly burned, and I can't stop the bleeding. She's dying, Headmaster... she doesn't have a lot of time left."

Dumbledore's grimace was entirely genuine. "What have I done?" He asked himself, feeling every single second of his 163 years. He watched as Harry moved closer, taking her hand as he sat tentatively on the side of the bed. "Hermione..."

"Are you okay?" She asked, looking him up and down.

"Me? I'm... never mind me, Hermione. How're you?"

"It hurts, Harry." Hermione whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. "I... I'm sorry, Harry."

"Why?" Harry noticed his vision growing misty. Confused, he reached up to find his eyes leaking. He was _crying_? He hadn't cried since he was four years old...

"I... I should have done b-better." Hermione whispered plaintively. "I..."

Harry pressed his finger against Hermione's lips. "Shh... you did very well, Hermione. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you." He let his hand slip down slightly, cupping her cheek softly.

Hermione moaned, arching her back slightly as another wave of debilitating pain washed over her. "I... I don't have long..." She gasped.

"N-No..." Harry said, panic filling his voice. "You can't l-leave me, Hermione... You can't..."

"I don't think I have a choice, Harry." She whispered back. "I'm dying... I know it..."

"You can't..." Harry sobbed. "P-Please, Hermione, don't... don't leave me... I can't live without you..."

"You have no choice, Harry..." Hermione said, squeezing his hand tightly. "I-I have to tell you..." She coughed, blood coming from her mouth.

Harry reached up and calmly wiped the blood away. "Hermione, before you do... let me..."

"I k-know, Harry." She said, staring at his eyes. "You love me."

"I... do..."

"And I you, my love." She whispered. "For so long... you must go on, Harry... don't mourn me..."

"No..." Harry moaned. "Please, H-Hermione... everyone I love leaves me... don't leave me, please..."

She flailed her free hand for a moment, trying to take a hold of him. "L-last request..."

Harry took her flailing hand, kissing her knuckles tenderly. "Anything, my love."

"Kiss me, Harry... please... just once... let me feel your lips-" She was cut off as Harry leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers chastely. She moaned slightly, pressing forward before leaning back, opening her eyes slowly. "As good as I thought..."

Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her generation, died with a small smile on her face and the hand of the man she loved beyond reason held in her own.

Again, the tears prickled up in Harry's eyes, one slowly making it's way down his cheek. He felt... a cold, _aching_ numbness in his chest.

_Nothing..._ A thought formed and died in his mind. _There's nothing left... it's all gone... all of it..._ He could feel his magic roaring throughout his body, but he didn't care what it was doing. The hole of Hermione's death was deep and sharp, making him feel... _empty_.

* * *

Dumbledore was hard pressed to keep tears of his own from making their way down his face. _This is all because of me... because of the things that I didn't do... and should have done. If only I'd told Harry... if only I'd found a way to stop this from happening..._ A very _wrong_ thought crossed his mind. _It's risky... dangerous and foolish..._ He was more than a little apprehensive. _It'll mean going back to what I was..._

He looked up again, spotting Harry crying into Hermione's neck, holding her tightly. _I'm sorry, Harry... More than you can know._ Steeling his resolve, he looked at Pomfrey. "Keep things together here until I get back, Poppy."

"'Get back', Albus?" Poppy asked. "Back from where?"

"That... is a far more interesting question than you might suspect." Dumbledore said as he strode out of the Hospital Wing.

* * *

On his way up the stairs, Dumbledore quickly evaluated a cost/benefit ratio over his planned course of action. _This is going to cost me a lot... but it's worth it, to stop it costing my _grandson_... He's not of my blood, but of my love._

A voice broke into his thoughts. It was weak, but still had an underlying strength. _**You know this is wrong, Albus. What you're proposing-**_

_Is necessary, Fawkes, my friend. Because of my actions, I've cost Harry so much. It's time to correct that._

_**And you believe **_**this**_** is the way?**_

_Can you think of anything better?_

There was silence as Fawkes contemplated the options. _**No.**_ He admitted after a few moments. _**But, if you do this, Albus, I won't be able to stay with you.**_

Dumbledore sighed as he mounted the spiral staircase to his office. _I understand, old friend._

_**Unless...**_

Opening the door, Dumbledore spotted his familiar weakly balancing on his perch, looking more than a little nervous. _**There is a way... you know what it is.**_

Dumbledore recoiled. _Fawkes, I know what I'm contemplating is wrong, but what you're suggesting-_

_**Is just as necessary... as you know.**_

"Fawkes..." Dumbledore muttered aloud. "What you're asking is to... it's almost unfathomable."

_**It's the only way I can stay with you, old friend. For more than sixty years, we have fought the good fight together. I wish to continue that, and this is the only way.**_

"It's wrong, Fawkes..."

_**You know that I love you, Albus. I've been alive a long time, and you're the only human I've loved. I do not want to leave you. You must bond me to you so that I can stay with you.**_

_You're suggesting that I use a Dark Art bonding on you... Fawkes, there's a reason that spell was made _highly_ illegal!_

_**I know... I also know it's what I **_**want**_**, old friend. Please...**_

Dumbledore knew that he'd need the help of his phoenix in the mission to come, but what he was asking... "I will do as you ask." He said heavily, slowly lifting his wand. Taking a deep breath, he dug into his magic, preparing to force a bondage bind on a Phoenix. It was highly illegal, but it _was_ at Fawkes' request.

As soon as the spell hit the newly-regenerated phoenix, he squawked loudly, writhing as the Dark energies tore through him. He began to grow quickly, painfully, up to his normal size. Instead of his plumage turning it's normal beautiful red and gold, it slowly turned black, making him look like a massively-oversized raven.

_**Ah... that feels oddly... good, Albus.**_ Fawkes sent stretching his wings.

"I was never planning on taking you with me, old friend." Dumbledore said as he tapped his robes with his wand, changing them from a horrendously eye-clashing violet to a pure black.

_**You need me. You know this.**_

_I agree._Dumbledore thought back. _But a bondage bind on a phoenix..._

_**Get over it.**_Fawkes said, looking at his human. _**I hope you're going to do something about that beard.**_

With a chuckle, Dumbledore nodded, trimming his waist-length beard to a short goatee, pointed at the chin. He quickly trimmed his hair to shoulder length, tying it up into a pony tail.

_**You look very dashing.**_ Fawkes offered, snickering slightly. _**I suggest you use the sword.**_

The Sorting Hat animated as it fell of the shelf, landing neatly on Dumbledore's desk. "Hello, Headmaster."

"Adrian."

"One Sword of Slytherin, coming up." Adrian offered, scrunching up his face as something 'clanged' onto the desk. Dumbledore lifted the hat, revealing the jet-black Sword of Slytherin.

"I feel I should warn you, once you start using this, it will be very difficult to come back from it." Adrian offered.

"For the Greater Good... of Harry Potter, Adrian, I have no choice." Dumbledore said, tucking the sword into his waist band. "It is for him that I do this."

"Going Dark for a boy, Headmaster?" Adrian said, a definite smirk on his face. "What would the papers say?"

"I no longer care." Dumbledore gently placed the hat back on his shelf. "I have failed that boy too often. Now, I have the opportunity to do something about it. I am not 'going Dark'... I am simply using _all_ spells in my arsenal."

"You're preaching to the converted, Albus." Adrian replied. "You forget, I'm a thousand years old. I've seen Dark, Light and Grey. Using the Dark Arts to save the world? You're grey... _as you always should have been!_"

Fawkes flapped over, landing on Dumbledore's shoulder. _**Avast, my hearty!**_

Rolling his eyes, Dumbledore raised his wand. "Now... time to see what we can do, old friend...

"_Open wide the gates of time,_  
_Allow me the darkness to restore my prime,_  
_To the past I must go to save her life,_  
_And give Harry Potter the love of his wife!_"

Hogwarts began rumbling as the old magicks were called upon, allowing her head to throw off the shackles he'd placed on himself all those decades ago and use _all_ his powers to help mankind. She diverted all her energy into Dumbledore, allowing him the strength he needed. The instant he vanished with a 'pop', so did Hogwarts. Time was to be rewritten, the history of things to come skewed.

* * *

Dumbledore found himself stood in his office, quickly looking at the clock. _Ah, excellent! They're just arriving at the Ministry now._ He dashed to his fireplace, moving far quicker than a man his age should be capable of. "Ministry of Magic!" He shouted, vanishing in a puff of green flame.

He blinked as he entered the Atrium, spotting the children running into the lift. "Bollocks..." He muttered, a mental agreement coming from his phoenix. "Fawkes, would you-" He was cut off as Fawkes teleported the two to the edge of the Department of Mysteries.

_**Phoenix for Dumbledore?**_ Fawkes sent cheekily.

_One day, old friend, that smart-arse of yours is going to get you into trouble._

_**Perhaps... but not today.**_ Fawkes took off, heading down the corridor like a missile, looking for something to rip, tear and maim. Dumbledore followed, hearing the sounds of battle coming from the other side of the floor. _**Found 'em!**_ Fawkes near-shouted. _**So far, things are going as expected... you'd better get over here, Albus. Harry and Hermione have been separated, and there's two Death Eaters chasing them.**_

Dumbledore vanished with a pop. As he reappeared, he was already walking forward, raising wand and sword as he saw Harry and Hermione fighting against Antonin Dolohov and that nameless, faceless Death Eater.

Dolohov raised his wand.

"_Silencio!_" cried Hermione and the man's voice was extinguished. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out. He was thrust aside by his fellow Death Eater.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forwards, face down on to the rug at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.

"Well done, Ha-"

But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand; a streak of what looked like purple flame tore through the air... only to be casually deflected as Dumbledore, but not Dumbledore, stepped from the shadows, flicking his wand and sending the spell ricocheting into the air, where it sizzled impotently on the ceiling.

"Antonin..." Dumbledore said politely, stepping in between the Death Eater and his students. "What a shame it is to see you here."

Dolohov just cackled silently. He'd been caught, true, but it was by the Muggle-loving old fool. He'd spend a couple of weeks in Ministry custody and then be able to rejoin the Dark Lord.

"_Avada Kedavra._" Dumbledore intoned smoothly, the green blast erupting from his wand and ending the life of the Death Eater.

Harry's jaw dropped, followed a second later by Hermione's, as they watched the 'Leader of the Light' kill his opponent. "S-Sir..."

"Ah, Harry." Dumbledore said, turning round, allowing the students to see the full extent of his changes. "One moment, please." He quickly used the killing curse on the petrified Death Eater. "Now, I believe we must make haste."

"You... you _killed_ them..." Hermione said, still clearly in shock.

"Yes, I did." Dumbledore said shamelessly. "If you know the consequences of allowing that filth to live..." He shook his head. "Come with me."

The three made their way through the Department of Mysteries, quickly spotting Luna and Ginny hobbling along. "Professor Dumbledore?" Ginny asked, staring at the, frankly _disturbing_ view of her headmaster.

"Miss Weasley... are you well?"

"Er... my ankle's a bit... banged up." Ginny said, leaning against the wall heavily.

With a quick flick of his wand, Dumbledore healed the break, using a spell to compress the wound slightly. "Try not to run on it." He said, before looking at Luna. "Miss Lovegood?"

"I'm fine, sir." Luna stared at him for a moment. "You've gone grey, sir."

"Yes, I have." Dumbledore confirmed. "That, however, is a conversation for another time. Where are Misters Longbottom and Weasley?"

"I'b here..." Neville said stumbling along the corridor. "Professor Dubbledore?"

Another flick of his wand healed Neville's nose, before a third flick summoned Dolohov's wand from the corpse, which he then presented to Neville. "Use this until we can obtain a proper replacement, Mr. Longbottom." Dumbledore then raised his wand. "_Point Me_ Ronald Weasley." After his wand stopped spinning, he took off in that direction, looking like the Pied Piper as the five children followed after him.

"What the hell's going on?" Ginny asked, looking at Hermione.

"Not a clue." Hermione said with a shrug. "But, he's here and he's fighting... can't really ask for much more at the moment."

Fawkes came screaming down the corridor, pursued by three Death Eaters. He spun neatly in mid-air before racing back down the corridor, backed up by his human. He wasn't afraid of being hurt; after all, he was a phoenix and would be reborn from his ashes, but if he was killed, he'd be useless for the rest of this fight.

Dumbledore quickly sent a wave of killing curses, non-verbally, at the three Death Eaters. Two of them fell to the spells, while the third, Bellatrix Lestrange, managed to duck out of sight and run.

"Professor... you're killing the Death Eaters..." Ginny pointed out unnecessarily.

"Yes, I am." Dumbledore said, opening the door to the brain room. He stepped inside, seeing Ron sat by one of the shelves, giggling to himself. "Oh, sweet Merlin... Mr. Weasley!"

Ron's head snapped up, staring at Dumbledore for a moment before he began giggling again.

"_Purgio_." Dumbledore muttered, sending a purging spell at Ron, quickly and neatly removing the effects of whatever spell had been cast on him.

Ron stopped giggling, immediately. He shook his head, climbing to his feet. "What the hell happened to me?" He asked, before getting a good look at Dumbledore. "No... never mind that... what happened to _you_, Headmaster?"

"A fascinating tale, Ronald," Dumbledore said absently as he looked around, "but most definitely a tale for another time. Come, we must keep moving." As Dumbledore was speaking, Fawkes re-entered the room, coming in to land on Dumbledore's shoulder. _Ah, Fawkes... how goes it?_

_**Lousy... I only managed to get one.**_

_There are more enemies to confound and slay, my friend. Patience is a virtue._

Fawkes just 'hmphd' in Dumbledore's ear as they began moving again, heading towards the penultimate confrontation of the evening.

"Students, we're about to go into another combat situation." Dumbledore said as he led the students into the Veil Room. "Make sure you have adequate cover and use your strongest spells. _Reducto_, _Bombarda_ and _Diffindo_ would be best. Remember, they won't be throwing tickling charms at you. I suggest you return the favour."

Hermione gasped as she realised that the 'Leader of the Light' was telling the students to 'shoot to kill'. "Sir!"

Dumbledore turned, his eyes crinkled in annoyance. "Miss Granger, think of it this way; who should walk out of here alive? Innocent students or murderous thugs?"

"S-Students..." She muttered quietly. "Sir, don't you think-"

"Not any more." Dumbledore said firmly. "Miss Granger, we must all do whatever is necessary to protect those we love and care for." He glanced at Harry, making Hermione's eyebrow shoot up. "You know this to be true... in your heart."

"Y-Yes, sir." Hermione said, tentatively reaching down and taking Harry's hand in her own. He blushed slightly but didn't try to pull away.

"Now..." Dumbledore gestured the students to cover as he stood in the centre of the room, his eyes locked onto the doorway. "Let us see where events take us..."

Dumbledore had less than a minute to wait as the Death Eaters burst into the room, wands drawn. He was pleased to note that there were only seven of them, thanks to his efforts earlier. He began firing spells, not AKs for the moment, but enough nasty spells to make the get behind cover.

_**And... cue the Order...**_ Fawkes thought, hovering near the ceiling as he spotted for his human. The bright white smoke trails of apparition announced the arrival of Sirius, Tonks, Remus, Shacklebolt and Moody, each of them quickly ducking behind cover and firing spells.

Sirius made his way cautiously to where the students were hiding, spotting the Dumbledore lookalike fighting with unparalleled ferocity. He grabbed Harry in a fierce hug tightly, seeing Hermione's hand held tightly in his own. "Hey, pup. How're you?"

Harry snorted. "I've had a bloody odd evening, Padfoot." He said softly. "I... Is it me or has Dumbledore totally changed the plot?"

"It ain't you, pup..." Sirius said, watching Dumbledore casually striking down the Death Eaters. "I should really go and help-"

"Stay down!" Dumbledore roared, not looking over. "This is _my_ fight! Where is your coward of a master, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix Lestrange was bleeding heavily from multiple wounds, but her pride was still at full strength. "You dare to call the Dark Lord a coward, old man?"

"I do." Dumbledore confirmed, sending a full-power Cruciatus at her, making her writhe and scream. "Just like you..."

Bellatrix began crawling, trying to get away from Dumbledore's intense torture curse. She was halfway towards the doorway when it slammed open, revealing... another Dumbledore? This one was clad in the characteristically horrendous purple robes.

The other Dumbledore looked up in shock, seeing another version of himself torturing one of the Death Eaters... then he saw nothing as a stunning charm robbed him of consciousness.

The momentary lapse in concentration was all Bellatrix needed to make a break for freedom, the Cruciatus losing strength for a fraction of a second. She began running, heading for the relative safety of the Atrium.

Dumbledore quickly tied up the rest of the Death Eaters, infecting each of them with an overpowered flesh-rotting curse. It would take almost an hour for them to die, and best of all; it was unstoppable. He headed over to his past self, reaching up to his temple, pulling out a memory strand which he dropped onto the other Dumbledore's forehead. The strand wriggled for a moment before sliding down, heading straight for the ear.

That done, Dumbledore drew the Sword of Slytherin from his belt and set off in pursuit of Bellatrix. When he got to the door, he stopped for a moment, before turning. "Harry, Hermione, Sirius... you should come along, too."

The three got up, dashing across the chamber and into the corridor as Dumbledore ran after the mad-dog that was Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

Bellatrix raced through the corridors as though the hounds of hell were pursuing her. She'd heard of Dumbledore's power, of course, just like everyone who was born in Wizarding Britain over the last five decades, and she'd heard the pitiful rumours that stated that Dumbledore was the only wizard her master was afraid of... she could certainly put some proof behind those rumours now.

As she entered the atrium, she felt a pang of relief as she saw one of the many Floo fireplaces already lit. All she needed to do was dash inside and call out her dest-

Her thoughts stopped as another Cruciatus impacted her, throwing her to the ground. Using the last of her weakening strength, she turned to see Dumbledore, with Potter, his Mudblood and the Blood Traitor watching.

"I didn't say you could leave." Dumbledore said sternly, not allowing his concentration to waver at all. "Instead, I really must insist that you die."

"What's this?" Another voice called out, drawing Harry's, Hermione's and Sirius' attention. Lord Voldemort was stood near the Fountain of Magical Brethren, staring at the almost unbelievable sight of the Leader of the Light torturing someone. "You appear to have fallen off your pedestal, old man."

Dumbledore stared at Bellatrix for a moment, before he broke the curse, casually sending a Killing Curse at her. Bellatrix slumped and died, allowing Dumbledore to turn his full attention to Voldemort.

"It was foolish of you to come here tonight, Tom."

"Oh?" Voldemort raised a mocking, hairless eyebrow at Dumbledore. "Are you going to try and arrest me, old man?"

"No." Dumbledore said, raising the Sword of Slytherin. "I'm planning to kill you."

_That_ shocked Voldemort. "You, Dumbledore? Aren't you the Leader of the Light?"

"I'm the man who's gonna take you down, Tom." Dumbledore said, staring with pure hatred at Voldemort. "You should learn to pay more attention to your surroundings."

Fawkes, who'd discretely made his way behind the despotic monster, raced forward, his talons razing through the top of Voldemort's head. Instantly, the despot started bleeding black blood, feeling a malevolence from the all-black phoenix that was unnatural.

"We shall fight now, Tom." Dumbledore said, sending a barrage of five Killing Curses at his nemesis.

* * *

Three floors below, the Dumbledore in purple woke up, feeling outrage at being casually stunned. He stopped when the memory that had been dropped into his mind worked its way through his subconscious, slowly assimilating itself with his own mind.

_My god..._ Dumbledore slowly stood up, thinking furiously. _What have I done? What have I cost?_ He watched the rest of the memory, where his future self decided to unleash all his powers, and made the same decision. _Very well... it's time to be what I should _always _have been._ He turned and began to run, heading up for the confrontation in the atrium. He had work to do...

* * *

Voldemort dived to the side, dodging the killing curses with only inches to spare. He sent back his own curse, not able to cast as fast as the old man. He never noticed the follow up barrage of bone-breaking hexes that came his way, turning his left shoulder and several of his ribs to powder, prompting him to scream.

Dumbledore conjured Fiend-Fyre, imbuing it into the shape of a phoenix, which surrounded Fawkes. _**I will detonate inside him, Albus.**_ Fawkes offered. _**Because of the bondage bind and a selfless sacrifice, I won't regenerate... I love you, my human.**_

With a nod, and a slow tear down his cheek, Dumbledore agreed. _I will miss you, old friend._

_**You won't... neither of us exist in this time. We are anachronisms... the other you and the other me will still be able to fight.**_

_Then I shall see you on the next great adventure, old friend._

Fawkes nodded, racing forward at the centre of a Fiend-Fyre pyre, heading straight for Voldemort. The Dark Lord saw him approaching, and tried to move, but space in the atrium was limited. He screamed when he felt the razor sharp beak of the phoenix impact his chest, exploded with all the force of Light and Dark, Fiend-Fyre surrounding him.

Dumbledore gasped as the explosion tore into his magical core. He hadn't known that the bondage bind would have that effect on him. Feeling his strength waning, Dumbledore looked over to see his other self race into the atrium. "Protect him..." He dropped to his knees, coughing up blood.

Voldemort tried to apparate away, only to find himself too weak. It was time for plan B to go into effect...

* * *

Harry gasped as _something_ began to penetrate his mind. It was evil, malevolent and oddly familiar. Hermione took his hand, staring at him in concern as he collapsed onto his back, gasping pathetically.

"Kill him..." The weak voice of Voldemort came from Harry's mouth. "Mudblood... Black... Dumbledore... if you wish me to die, kill the boy..."

Dumbledore snorted. "As if, Tom." He glanced over at his fallen self, realising that there was still a little fight left in him. "Together?"

Dark!Dumbledore nodded, wheezing slightly. Together, the two wizards raised their wands, casting an exorcism spell on Harry. For a moment, the two fought the spirit, feeling it become more entrenched as it tried to fight back.

An overwhelming wave of love washed over Harry as Hermione pressed her lips to his, blushing brightly. Sirius took his hand, muttering about his feelings for his godson.

Harry, boosted by the spells from the two Dumbledores, not to mention the raw power of his love for Hermione, fought back. His scar began to bleed angrily, before a black mass erupted, falling to the floor impotently, before bursting into flame.

Dumbledore looked over at his Dark counterpart, seeing him pass away. With a casual flick, he transfigured the body into a small action figure, before he summoned it to hand and thrust it into his pocket. That would certainly lead to far too many questions...

Voldemort wheezed as he tried to rise. "You..." He coughed, spitting out a glob of black blood. "What have you done?"

Around them, the fireplaces flared up, Ministry personnel flooding through as they only now responded to the massive waves of magic that had occurred.

Dumbledore allowed himself to smirk evilly. "Two down, Tom." He said, raising his wand. "How many left, I wonder?"

Eyes wide in shock, Voldemort gathered every ounce of his strength and apparated away, leaving behind his right leg.

With a frown of distaste, Dumbledore vanished the mess, before he turned back to Harry. "Are you okay, Harry?"

"Yeah..." Harry sat up, coughing. "What the hell was that?"

"I'll tell you as soon as we get back to Hogwarts." Dumbledore said, looking round the atrium. I'm expect the Ministry personnel will want an explanation... and I have something to do." The instant he spotted the coward that masqueraded as the Minister, he strode forward, rearing back and slugging the incompetent little glob of sputum.

"Wha..." Fudge gripped his jaw, looking up in shock at Dumbledore.

"Now do you believe me?" Dumbledore roared, looking angrier than ever. "I told you... I _told you_ that he was back! Now you've seen it with your own eyes!"

Several Aurors were glancing around the atrium, spotting the notorious criminal Sirius Black stood there. "Sir!" Dawlish shouted. "Sirius Black!"

"Arrest him!" Fudge shouted, seeing a way out of the political disaster that was sure to come.

"Freeze!" Dumbledore roared. "Sirius Black is under the protection of the House of Dumbledore, Fudge. I can assure you, he's going nowhere. I have proof of his innocence."

Fudge looked up. "He's not innocent!"

"I tire of your stupidity, Fudge!" Dumbledore slapped the Minister's face twice. "I challenge you to a duel of honour, Fudge. To the death. You have impugned my honour for the last year, and I demand satisfaction."

Amelia Bones stepped forward. "Enough of this." She commanded sharply. "Professor Dumbledore, unfortunately, we can't allow the Minister of Magic to duel in this precarious time." She began to smirk. "I'm calling for an immediate vote of no-confidence in the little shit. As soon as he's ousted from office, he's all yours."

"Thank you." Dumbledore replied, nodding respectfully at her. "With regards to Sirius Black, he is under my protection until a trial can be arranged."

"So noted... Headmaster."

"Thank you again." He turned to glance at Harry. "Now, Madam Bones, I really must return my students to school. This has been a trying evening for us all."

"Of course, Headmaster. Your authorisation to make Portkeys has been restored, retroactive to this morning."

"You have my gratitude, Amelia." Dumbledore summoned a long piece of wood from the floor, turning it into a Portkey with practiced efficiency. "I would like it if we could arrange a time tomorrow morning to cover as much as we can. Would you be able to come to Hogwarts?"

"Of course."

"Then we shall continue this conversation tomorrow morning." Dumbledore gestured to the students and Sirius. "Please take this to my office. I shall gather the rest of the students and Portkey them straight to the Hospital Wing. Then, I shall return to my office, and we shall have a _long_ overdue conversation."

Harry took the Portkey, eyeing Dumbledore curiously before he held it out to Hermione and Sirius, vanishing instantly.

* * *

Harry landed on the floor, groaning as Hermione landed on him (which, under the circumstances, wasn't that unpleasant) until Sirius flopped onto the pair of them.

After getting up, Sirius helped Harry and Hermione to their feet, before pushing them onto the couch and slumping onto a chair. For a moment, silence reigned as each of them took a few seconds to contemplate the events of the evening.

"Well..." Sirius said, before trailing off.

"It's been a bloody weird night."

"Hermione!" Harry said, shocked at her profanity.

"Get over it, Harry." Hermione said. "What the hell was that? Two Dumbledores, one of them using Dark Arts casually, killing the Death Eaters, telling us to do the same... I think I'm allowed to swear tonight."

Dumbledore appeared in the office, landing lightly as he casually tossed the small stone he'd used as a Portkey into his waste bin. "Indeed, Miss Granger. Now, do any of you require a visit to Poppy before we begin speaking?"

"No, sir." Harry said, "But, we all have questions."

"As you should." Dumbledore said. "Under different circumstances, I would not answer them. But after the events of tonight... I think we have no choice. First, I would like to explain my actions this year, then this evening, and then you may ask any questions that you wish."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who nodded, then as Sirius, who shrugged. "Very well, Headmaster."

Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, summoning a bottle of brandy and four glasses. "Normally, I wouldn't encourage underage students to drink, but I think we will all require one by the end of our conversation.

Sirius stood, taking hold of a glass and holding it out. Dumbledore half-filled the glass before pouring himself one. The two men took a sip, appreciating the fine taste of brandy, before Dumbledore began.

"Approximately sixteen years ago, I was interviewing Sybil Trelawney for a position of Divination Professor. The meeting was held in Hogsmeade, as I believed that letting her into the castle would cause... complications."

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she thought. "You believed if she was in the castle, it could be difficult to get her to leave?"

"I believed so, yes." Dumbledore nodded. "To be perfectly frank, before that night, I never really held the 'art' of Divination in high regard. It isn't really a subject that can be taught. You either have a gift or you don't. However, for those with the gift, they do require training. So, it was necessary to have a Professor. During the interview, she gave a prophecy. It stated, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...'"

Harry blinked as the meaning washed over him. "It was me... me or Neville, right?"

"Correct. So, I immediately notified the Potters and the Longbottoms about this, telling them to go into hiding. I proposed the use of the _Fidelius_ charm, since it's unbreakable under ideal circumstances."

"The 'right circumstances' being not trusting a rat." Sirius snarked as he took another swig of brandy.

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded. "I was not privy as to who was Secret Keeper. At the time, I believed it to be Sirius. I was invited to Godric's Hollow to visit on several occasions. James and Lily had a piece of parchment with the secret on it, and I didn't recognise the handwriting. When James and Lily were killed..."

Dumbledore sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "At the time, I believed it essential to get Harry to a position of safety. Since I, along with everyone else, believed that Sirius was the Secret Keeper," He turned to Sirius, "I couldn't allow you to take Harry. That left only his blood relative, Petunia Dursley. I... I had Hagrid bring you to Surrey, and left you on the doorstep with a letter."

"You... you left a baby on a _doorstep_?" Hermione squealed angrily. "How could you? He could have crawled away... been attacked by a wild animal, anything!"

"I am aware of that, Miss Granger." Dumbledore said heavily. "Have you ever heard the phrase 'power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely'?"

Hermione nodded.

"I hold three of the most powerful positions in British Magical Society. I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, making me able to influence politics and laws. I am the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, which allows me to influence international politics, across the whole world. And I am the Headmaster of one of the foremost schools of magic in the world. Put simply, I began to believe the hype that was thrust on me."

"And now?" Harry asked, feeling anger begin to pump through his veins.

"And now, I've had some sense knocked into me." Dumbledore said. "I intend to resign my position on the Wizengamot and the ICW, and step down as Headmaster. I intend to take a teacher's position here, allowing me to focus on what I enjoy without the temptations of power."

"Oh..."

"So, I left you at the Dursleys. I realise now what a mistake that was. When you arrived here five years ago, I knew you'd suffered. Suffering that was _my_ fault. Instead of using the brains god gave a goose, I continued to return you to that abusive environment, year after year."

"Yes, you did." Harry said emotionlessly.

"There's more, Harry." Dumbledore said, taking a long swallow of brandy. "At the end of your first year, you asked me why Voldemort came after you. Do you remember?"

"I remember you telling me I was too young to know." Harry groused lightly.

"Yes... I did. That was only partially the truth." Dumbledore sighed. "Once you became aware of your destiny, I honestly didn't believe you'd be strong enough to face Voldemort. I considered it my duty to 'harden' you to your destiny."

"I see." Harry was again emotionless. Hermione, on the other hand, had a few choice phrases to share.

"How _dare_ you?" She roared. "You... you... you _evil_ old man! Do you have any idea what you've done to him?"

"Yes." Dumbledore said firmly. "And that is why I have to finish, Miss Granger. Believe me, I will relate all of my sins to you this evening." He waited until Hermione nodded before continuing. "Your second through fourth years run along a similar vein; I believed that each of your 'adventures' were suitable training, allowing you to learn just enough to face Voldemort, but not enough to survive the battle."

"Albus, I'm not sure I can listen to any more of this." Sirius said, feeling an overwhelming urge to reach for his wand. "You're... how could you?"

"At the time, I believed it to be necessary. I couldn't defeat Voldemort, so nobody else would be able to, either. My... arrogance was profound."

"I'll say." Sirius said, keeping hold of the hilt of his wand.

"There's more... and it relates to Snape."

Hermione cocked her head. "Not _Professor_ Snape, sir?"

"I..." Dumbledore sighed. "Voldemort found out about part of the prophecy. He was spying on me when Sybil gave me the prophecy. He immediately ran to Voldemort and told him what he overheard. It can be solidly rested on Severus' shoulders that Voldemort targeted the Potters."

Sirius was on his feet in an instant. "I'll kill him!"

"Sit down!" Dumbledore roared, making Sirius sit, instantly. After a moment, he continued. "It is not your place to deal with Severus. It is _mine_. And I will."

"Why..." Harry felt hot tears prickling at the back of his eyes. "All this time... I was a slave at the Dursleys... you _paid_ him... and he's been abusing students..."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. I allowed him to be... unpleasant to the students to maintain his cover as a Death Eater. He convinced me that he was truly turning his back on Voldemort and wanted to spy."

"This..." Hermione shook her head, wiping away her own tears as she grabbed Harry's hand. "Sir, do you know what you're admitting?"

"Yes, I do." Dumbledore said, focussing on the subject at hand. "Ever since last summer, I've been ignoring you, Harry. The reason for this is that I was scared of you. Your connection to Voldemort has been growing ever since he used your blood in his resurrection ceremony last year. Voldemort is an accomplished Legilimens, and I feared that he'd be able to use you as a conduit to me. My fear stopped me from speaking to you and telling you what you needed to know."

Harry was nearly in shock at the revelations.

"Now for the... events of this evening. Miss Granger, you remember when you had the time turner?"

"Yes, sir."

"I told you that you must not be seen. Time turners are incapable of creating a paradox. However, there are other ways of travelling in time. That other copy of me time-travelled after the disaster in the Department of Mysteries."

"What disaster?" Sirius asked.

"Both you and Miss Granger died in battle." Dumbledore said bluntly. "Sirius, you were knocked through the veil by Bellatrix, while Miss Granger, that flame whip from Dolohov would have nearly sliced you in half. My future self decided that was unacceptable and travelled back in time, intent on changing it."

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"When he was leaving the Death Room, do you remember he dropped a memory strand on my forehead?"

"Yeah."

"That was his memories of this evening, from his point of view. I knew that I could not allow that to happen again. Like him, I will use whatever spells are in my power to protect you. Including the Dark Arts."

Silence reigned. Harry cleared his throat. "So... what happens now?"

"Originally," Dumbledore said, "my plan was for you to return to the Dursleys for at least half of the summer. However, I believe you would be better served at Headquarters with Sirius."

"Sir?"

"You will need training, Harry... training I should have started giving you five years ago. I've been a fool. I want to try and correct that."

"Oh..."

"I believe that a training schedule, lasting for most of the holidays should be drawn up, teaching you the most powerful combat magicks I know. There's also several missions that will need to be undertaken, and I would like to have both of you present in Order meetings. Your point of view can only be an asset."

Harry stared at him.

"One thing I _will not_ do, Harry, is tell you where to go. I am aware that the revelations of tonight will not doubt infuriate you. I understand and accept that." He held up a hand, seeing Harry about to speak. "I do not want your forgiveness, Harry. Instead, I would like to earn my redemption. I have wronged you. I would like the opportunity to make it back up."

"Do you really think you can?" Hermione asked.

"No." Dumbledore said candidly. "That will not, however, stop me from trying."

"I'll try, Headmaster." Harry said diplomatically.

"That is all I ask, Harry." Dumbledore stood up, flicking his wand at himself, turning his robes black and trimming his hair. "Sirius, would you come with me, please? I believe the two of us should have a conversation with Severus."

Sirius headed for the door, stepping through, Dumbledore right behind him. Just before he closed the door, Dumbledore stuck his head back round. "Oh, Harry? Hermione?"

The two teens looked up. "Yes, sir?"

"You both love each other, you know. Do me a favour? Admit it to each other." With a grin, Dumbledore withdrew his head, before putting it back round. "Another favour? Don't wipe it off on my cushions." Dumbledore closed and sealed the door, holding up his hand to stop Sirius from moving. After a moment, he heard Hermione's breathy, "Oh, Harry..." followed by a moan.

"You know... you frighten me sometimes..." Sirius said as he led the way down the stairs.

* * *

Once inside the dungeons, Dumbledore casually bound Snape in unbreakable ropes before throwing him onto a chair.

"Headmaster?" Snape looked confused. "What are you doing?"

"It's question and answer time, Severus." Dumbledore said, rooting through the shelves in Snape's private cupboard. "Ah, excellent." He withdrew a small vial, filled with a clear liquid.

Snape began squirming as he realised just what the Headmaster had picked up. "Sir, what are you-" He stopped speaking as Sirius grabbed hold of his head, prising his jaw open.

Six drops later, Snape's eyes glazed over.

"Now, Severus... shall we have a conversation?"

"Yes."

"Who are you loyal to?"

"The Dark Lord."

"Why did you allow me to believe that you were my spy?"

"Because my Lord commanded me to, and you're an old fool."

"Indeed... indeed. Was anything you told me true?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"The Dark Lord wasn't planning on killing Lily."

"Why not?"

"Because I asked him to spare her for me."

"What?" Sirius frowned, squeezing Snape's jaw painfully. "Explain! _Now!_"

"I asked the Dark Lord to allow me to keep the Mudblood as a sex-toy. Had she followed his commands, she would still be alive."

"Sirius, stop!" Dumbledore commanded, waving his wand to push Sirius back. "I understand your desire to kill him, but there are still questions to be answered."

"Ask them quickly." Sirius said through gritted teeth. "I have limited patience."

"I will." Dumbledore turned back to Snape. "Have you been providing information to Voldemort about the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Naturally. He _is_ my master."

"And when I asked you to teach Harry Occlumency, did you?"

"Not at all. It was a chance for revenge against James Potter."

"James Potter's been dead for fifteen years, Severus. What could you hope to gain by torturing his son?"

"He's a Potter... they're all guilty of _something_."

"Only one more question, Severus." Dumbledore said, raising his wand. "Are you prepared to die?"

"I have been ever since I accepted the mark."

"Good. _Avada Kedavra._" Dumbledore watched impassively as a man he once considered a friend die. Another flick of his wand transfigured him into a match, which he struck against the side of the bench, allowing it to burn out. He dropped it to the floor, grinding it into dust with his boot.

"You know... you're definitely a lot more intimidating now." Sirius said, his normally pale face even whiter.

"You stand with Harry." Dumbledore said in a clipped voice. "As long as you remain there, you have nothing to fear from me. Now, let us return to my office. I just hope they've exercised some self-control."

* * *

Upon his entrance, Dumbledore was forced to suppress snickers as Hermione quickly rebuttoned her blouse. Harry was blushing brightly, but there was a gleam to his eye that hadn't been there before.

"Harry..." Dumbledore knelt down, holding his wand across his palms. "I would like to pledge myself to you. I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, hereby swear my life to supporting Harry Potter and Hermione Granger/Potter in the upcoming war. I will train them to the fullest of my abilities and will keep no information from them. As I swear, so mote it be."

He flashed for a moment, before standing. "Now... I believe you and Miss Granger should continue your... conversation. Please ensure you use appropriate contraception. Good evening."

As Harry and Hermione fled, Sirius chuckled rustily. "I suppose I'd better get to work on cleaning up the hovel."

"Take as many elves as you need from Hogwarts." Dumbledore offered. "And kill that rodent you have working for you at the moment."

Sirius blinked.

"He betrayed you, Sirius, not to mention the rest of the Order. I intend to make sure we do _not_ lose this war."

"Aye..." Sirius took his leave and Floo'd away, leaving Dumbledore alone with his thoughts.

_Harry, Hermione... I know that I've betrayed you both by my actions. This time, I will not mess it up again. _He knew that there was nothing they couldn't face... together. And he'd do everything in his power to make sure they stayed that way.


	5. Soul Bonds are NOT cool

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry. This just... popped into my head. It's fluffy and silly... I should probably just bin the file...

* * *

"Ah, Hermione!" Lavender exclaimed happily. "What marvellous timing!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed warily at Lavender's happy tone. "Whatever it is, nobody saw me do it and you can't prove anything."

Lavender blinked in confusion. "Er... okay?"

"So, you weren't asking who left all the hair in the showe... Never mind." Hermione said quickly. "Why is this 'marvellous timing'?"

With a slight shrug, Lavender held up the magazine she'd been reading. Hermione suppressed a grimace when she saw it was _Teen Witch Weekly_. "There's a new article about soul bonds in here!"

This time, Hermione didn't bother to suppress her grimace. "Soul bonds? Why on _Earth_ would you read about that?"

Lavender gaped convincingly. "Hermione! How can you say that? Soul bonds are _the_ most _romantic_ things ever!"

"No, they bloody well aren't." Harry said, unnoticed, from directly behind them, quickly getting the girls' attention as they all jumped. Hermione, naturally, knew that he was there. Lavender, Parvati, Ginny and Romilda nearly jumped out of their skins.

"H-Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, holding her hand against her chest. "Sweet Merlin, you nearly scared the life out of me!"

"You're wrong about soul bonds." Harry said, ambling round the armchair and slumping onto the couch with a heavy grunt.

"Why?"

"Because they're _not_ the most romantic thing in the world." Harry grunted, closing his eyes and slumping even further.

"Spoken like a _boy!_" Lavender snorted disdainfully. "Like you'd understand anything about romance."

"Perhaps not." Harry admitted, not opening his eyes. "I do, however, know quite a bit about soul bonds."

"Harry." Hermione said warningly.

"No, come on, Hermione..." Harry said, looking up at her, "they think soul bonds are so bloody marvellous... you've been bitching to me for almost two years about this. Why not let them know the truth?"

"Because it's horribly embarrassing." Hermione replied instantly. "And you know perfectly well that it's horribly embarrassing."

"Well, yes, I do... But, still... they think 'they're the most romantic things ever!'" He concluded in a mocking tone.

"Fine." Hermione grumped.

"So, what do you know about soul bonds?" Lavender asked, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees, eager for some new morsel of gossip.

"I have one."

_That_ comment brought absolute silence in the Gryffindor common room, as _every_ student stopped what they were doing. Seventy-six pairs of eyeballs swivelled to Harry, all pretence gone. Only one set, that belonging to Hermione, was not gaping at him. Instead, she was staring at the ceiling, wishing for a hole to open up in the Earth and swallow her whole.

"W-What... who... when... how..." Lavender's mouth was opening and closing, with random sounds coming out. "Why..."

"All good questions." Harry said, staring intently at her. "Okay... 'What' is 'dunno'. 'Who?' is my dear, sweet-"

"Piss off."

"Hermione." Harry continued, as though said lady hadn't interrupted him. "'When?' was during the first task of the Tri-Wizard tournament. 'How?' I would guess was because of the... stress I was under, not to mention a healthy fear of death and a good dollop of adrenaline, while Hermione was feeling something almost as intense. The 'Why?'... I don't have a bloody clue. It just happened."

Lavender's jaw was resting on her sternum as she looked at Harry, then Hermione, then back at Harry...

"Oh, for the love of God..." Hermione muttered, feeling the rest of Gryffindor staring at her. "Will you please stop staring?"

"But..." Ginny blinked. "How did you keep this from us? _Why_ did you keep this from us?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Probably to avoid a scene like everyone's making now. Contrary to popular opinion, neither my bond-mate nor I appreciate being stared at."

"But... you have a soul bond!" Lavender squealed, getting over the shock and into full gossip-mode. "That's so sweet and romantic!"

"No, it bloody well isn't!" Harry and Hermione snapped in perfect unison.

"See! That's so sweet! You always know what each other's thinking!" Ginny said, clapping her hands in glee.

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. "You don't know anything about this..."

"Tell us!" Every girl near-screamed in unison, before a 'tell us!' chant began reverberating throughout the common room.

"Oh, joy..." Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. "Fine." Again, silence reigned throughout the common room as everyone waited for Hermione to continue. "Picture the scene; you've just witnessed your best friend fighting a dragon, and you've been scared shitless that entire time. You go and see him, start hugging him, and what happens? You start hearing his voice in your head, wishing that you'd move a little closer, maybe wiggle a bit."

Eyes began turning to Harry, who just shrugged. "Fourteen and male... get over it."

"So, you step back, looking at him, thinking 'he didn't just say that... did he?' Harry looks at me and says 'I didn't say anything'. So, I thought something... uncomplimentary about him."

"You call me a perverted little psychotic junkie who needed a spanking." Harry supplied dutifully, looking up at her with a smirk. "You then offered to spank me."

"So," Hermione continued without pause, "we found out that we have the ability to speak to each other in our minds... what a _joy_ that is."

Lavender appeared outraged. "Hermione, I can't believe you! You get to experience one of the most rare magical phenomena, and you're complaining."

"Like I said, I was fourteen and male." Harry said wryly. "What are fourteen year old boys famous for thinking about?"

There was silence as the girls pondered the question and the boys began to blush. When the girls finally caught up, most of them shared an expression of mutual distaste.

"Christ, at one point I thought I was a lesbian." Hermione groused. "I kept thinking about breasts, and I found myself checking out Parvati when she got out of the shower."

Parvati began to blush.

"I didn't have a bloody clue that Harry was able to share my senses and _he_ was the one checking out Parvati using my eyes."

"Hey, I had it just as bad." Harry pointed out. "Listening to you recite bloody Arithmancy formulae _constantly_. Hearing your thoughts during the end of year exams damned near drove me out of my mind."

"Oh?" Hermione asked dangerously. "And listening to your thoughts during History of Magic? A fourteen year old fantasising about tits, Quidditch, tits, food, tits, the Yule Ball and... oh, yeah; tits!"

Several of the younger students, who'd learned that Hermione's temper often got the better of her, began packing up their belongings, edging towards the portrait hole.

"Well, you're not exactly sweetness and bloody light, are you?" Harry asked angrily, sitting up on the couch. "Constantly nagging in my mind! 'Don't slouch, Harry!' 'Shouldn't you be out of bed by now?' '_Four_ cups of coffee, Harry?' Sweet Jesus... it was like having the most _irritating_ person in the world constantly speaking to you!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You'd better think very clearly, Harry Potter..."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll tell people the _truth!_"

"'Truth'?" Harry asked, casually noting people sneaking out of the common room. "How's this for truth; I've had to suffer every single fucking period you've had for almost _three years!_" Every male in the house gasped, while the girls smiled smugly.

"As I have... and I've had to suffer every single hard-on that you've had... every dirty little fantasy!" More of the 'brave' house of Gryffindor began to run, heading away before Mount Granger erupted in a pyroclastic display.

"And I've had to put up with you being nagging, shirty, irritating... I've seen your fantasies when you've been asleep, too, remember?"

With a snarl, Hermione stepped forward, casually moving around a group of fourth years as they made a break for freedom. "And you, constantly telling me to calm down... do you have any idea how much that winds me up?"

Harry stood, stepping round Parvati, Lavender and Ginny as they quietly began to walk towards the portrait hole. "And you think that me winding you up is less than what you do to me?"

Hermione took another pace forward and grabbed Harry's shirt, staring hard at him. _They gone?_ She asked him mentally.

Harry glanced round, happily noting that the common room was empty. _Yep. Room's empty._

_Don't you think there was probably an easier way than this?_

_Probably._ Harry said as he began to unbutton her blouse. _But, you have to admit; it was fun._

Hermione moaned as Harry expertly tweaked her nipple on the way past. _It is... but, you should admit you enjoy having arguments for the angry make-up sex._

_Just because they aren't real arguments doesn't mean we can't have make-up sex, my love._ Harry sent as he began to lick her collar bone, making her moan again as her fists nodded in his hair.

_You're so good at this..._

Harry's hand dropped lower, pulling up her far-too short skirt. _Is this regulation, Head Girl?_

_Who gives a flying fuck?_ Hermione asked as she felt Harry banish her knickers. _Shouldn't we seal the portrait hole?_

_Should_. Harry sent back as he began gently massaging her glorious butt cheeks. _But, admit it; you get turned on at the thought of getting caught._

_True... but, I also like to have enough time to finish, too..._

Harry smirked as he dropped to his knees, inhaling her scent deeply. _Have I ever let you leave unsatisfied?_ He leaned closer, pushing up her skirt and gently running his tongue along her damp entrance.

_N-No..._ Hermione moaned. _Don't tease... Harry... please..._

Harry stood, wrapping an arm around her waist as he quickly guided her to a table, reaching into his robe pocket and pulling out a small book. He slammed it onto the table, enlarging it absently. Hermione quickly assumed the position, bending over the desk and opening the book.

_You're so good to me..._

Unzipping, Harry manoeuvred himself into position. _I'm gonna be better in a minute... now, my love; start reading..._

Hermione gasped as Harry sheathed himself smoothly inside her, waiting a moment before he began a fast and oh-so-enjoyable rhythm. It took a moment for her brain to reboot as she began reading this week's book: _Lady Chatterley's Lover_.

As she was reading, Harry reflected just how cool soul bonds were... especially when Hermione read out smut during their sex.

_F-Faster, Harry..._ Hermione moaned.

Yep... soul bonds were cool.


	6. A Lonely Life

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

* * *

I live in shadow.

For many years, I've been banished to a lonely existence, never seeing the sun. I live in heat and humidity, but always in the shadow.

As such, I'm deathly pale, so white that I look like I'm wearing clown paint.

The life of Harry Potter is well documented. There is an entire wall dedicated to him in Flourish and Blotts, and even though I've been with him over all those adventures, I am not mentioned. Not once.

In his lifetime, Harry's faced Dementors. I was there. I am not mentioned.

He's faced a werewolf. I was there. I am not mentioned.

He faced a Hungarian Horntail. I was there. I am not mentioned.

He destroyed the Dark Lord Voldemort. I was there. I am not mentioned.

Are you seeing a pattern here? Ron Weasley, Harry's best mate, and Hermione Granger, Harry's best friend, were there, and they are mentioned. You can probably tell, I'm a bit bitter about this.

I try to live without regrets, but I'm so very lonely. My life of shadow and loneliness...

By now, you're probably wondering who I am, huh? Not surprising. I've been speaking about myself for quite a while here. Well, see if you can put it together from the clues.

I'm very pale.

I live in the shadow.

I've been with Harry for many years, and I'm never mentioned.

Worked it out yet?

No... okay, I shall reveal my identity.

I am, of course, Harry's penis.

Yeah, you probably weren't expecting that, were you? No? Good.

Harry Potter's 'love-life' is well documented, just like the rest of his adventures. According to Rita Skeeter, Harry was dating Hermione Granger in fourth year. He wasn't. He was dating Cho Chang during his fifth year. Which is partially inaccurate. He had _one_ date and left it halfway through. I didn't see even a glimpse of action.

Then he was dating Ginny Weasley in his sixth year. The girl, during one of their many snogging sessions, tried to grope me, but I executed tactical manoeuvre #2: "turtle" to escape. I don't know why, but the prospect of that hand touching me... no. Not interested.

During what would have been Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts, he was forced to roam the country, with just Ron and Hermione as company. Ron pissed off partway through the mission, because he was bored and hungry, leaving it just the three of us; Harry, Hermione and me. I truly thought I'd get some at that point, but no...

I often find it curious that I was assigned to Harry Potter. He seems to be the most asexual person I've ever heard of. Not once, not _once_, has he ever taken me out for some exercise. I'm a bit masochistic and enjoy being strangled, but he's never done that. Me and the boys could drop off and I doubt he'd notice.

After the final battle at Hogwarts, practically every unmarried witch between the ages of twelve and a hundred and twelve wanted to play with me. It seemed once he killed the Dark Dick again, I was in popular demand. That's the problem with noble people; they stop the little guy having fun.

So now, here I am, locked in my cruel cloth prison (least the bastard could do is wear boxers... I want _some_ room to move around), and it seems that my life will get no better. I shall be alone for a long... wait a sec... something's happening...

I'm waking up. _Properly_ waking up. The blood's pumping, and I _am alive!_

If I had a nose, I'd be sniffing, wanting to find out what's going on, but then again, considering where I live, having a nose may not be the best idea. 'Teenage Male' and 'Personal Hygiene' don't generally go together.

The zipping noise makes me twitch, trying to find out what's going on, but a blast of light blinds me.

Ah, yes, another point; I only have one eye, so my depth perception is crap. Seriously crap. But there's something approaching me. One, two, three, four... four fingers. Do I need to prepare to retreat? Wait... oh, thank god. It's not Ginny's hand. Whose hand is it, though?

Ooh, it's warm... and surprisingly skilled. Like I said, I'm a masochist, and I'm being abused perfectly by that hand.

Ah, bright light, bright light! I've just been taken out of prison. Ah, fresh air feels good! Fresh air plus being molested feels even better.

There's something coming closer. I have to squint a bit, but my vision's dreadful. All I can see is brown... like a bush of brown... Whatever that 'something' is, it getting dangerously close. And opening. And I'm enveloped.

Ah, it's like a sauna. It's warm, comfortable, plenty of humidity, and I'm getting a relaxing massage.

If you'll excuse me, I need to wake up the lads. We've got work to do.

The sauna pulls back, leaving me bobbing in the air. I'm manhandled up slightly, and then... ooh... I have to squint, but I'm fairly certain I recognise that face. Bushy-brown hair, beautiful chocolate eyes, straight teeth and...

I think I'm about to sneeze... excuse me a second... Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!

And now that face has a beautiful mother of pearl sheen that wasn't there a minute ago. She looks happy, though, if that grin is anything to go by. Normally, my first inclination after such a vigorous workout would be a nice kip. Maybe a gentle massage to send me off to sleep... Shit, I've just had a thought; Hermione Granger _never_ achieves something. She overachieves.

Don't bother going back to sleep, lads. Round two's coming up.

You know... maybe it's not so bad being Harry Potter's dick...


	7. Bun in the Oven

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

_

* * *

_

Wednesday, 1_st__ November, 2000_  
_Master Bedroom, #12 Grimmauld Place, London_

_Let me die..._ The thought, if such pitiful whimpering could be called 'thought', was the first thing that flashed across Harry's mind as he began to stir.

His bed seemed particularly uncomfortable this morning, although that was probably related to the absolutely momentous hangover he was currently sporting. He took a moment to 'run a diagnostic'.

_Okay... my mouth feels like I swallowed the contents of an ashtray... do I smoke when I'm drinking?_

_My head's banging... That must be where all the garden gnomes go at the Burrow... they hide until I'm pissed, then grab hammers and abuse me. Little twats..._

_Also, I don't remember eating those snakes... why's my stomach roiling so badly? Oh, yeah... I didn't eat anything yesterday._

_Diagnostic complete. Situation: bleugh..._ Harry was _very_ glad that he'd booked the rest of the week off work. He really didn't fancy chasing Dark wizards around the country with the hangover from hell.

He froze. _Oh god..._ He thought. _Something moved... something that _wasn't_ me moved? Oh, shitehawk, who did I bring home last night?_

Using his Occlumency, which wasn't easy considering there was still quite a lot of alcohol in his system and he was badly dehydrated, Harry dredged up the memory of the previous evening.

_

* * *

_

Flashback: Tuesday, 31_st__ October, 2000_  
'_Wet Wands'_

_Harry Potter was drunk. Not just drunk, but _drunk_._

_As usual, the gang had gathered at Wet Wands for an evening of drinking, eating and general debauchery. The date, Halloween, was no coincidence._

_It was widely accepted among his circle of friends that Harry only drank on four occasions during each year; a small glass of FireWhiskey to 'bring in the new year', a single champagne toast on Hermione's birthday (which made each and every one of his friends roll their eyes at his utter thickness), another small FireWhiskey on June 26__th__, the anniversary of his godfather's death, but on Halloween, he got _wankered_. Completely. Utterly._

_As such, being good and loyal friends, the semi-small group made sure that Harry wasn't alone on Halloween. In '98, after He-Who-Now-Fertilises-The-Pumpkin-Patch had been defeated, Harry had stayed alone at Grimmauld Place, telling his friends he wanted a night of quiet introspection, and sealing up the house to insure his privacy._

_The two-week stay in hospital, complete with having his stomach pumped and his heart restarted (twice) had convinced his friends that Harry should _never_ be left alone on Halloween. Hermione, naturally, had been utterly distraught over the situation, and had received a written warning from the Ministry about her absence. She'd ignored it, though._

_Whenever the group had a night out, the typical agenda was as follows: the first hour, the group split into male/female so the girls could gossip about things that scared the boys, and the boys could chat about things that bored the girls. The next six or seven hours were devoted to getting pissed, eating too much, dancing/dry humping and generally making complete arses of themselves._

_The group had split off into various couples over the few years since the defeat of Voldemort, but their shared experiences had created a set of friendships and bonds that couldn't be broken._

_For the first thirty minutes of the evening, Harry power-drank. He _hated_ Halloween with a passion, and getting blotto was a quick way of numbing the pain. Unfortunately for Harry, he forgot that drinking lowered all mental defences, allowing his demons to run rampant through his mind._

_Fortunately for his friends, however, Harry was a fun drunk. He was also brutally honest, enough to make Luna Lovegood seem quiet and reserved._

_"Harry, are you sure you should be drinking that quickly?" Ron asked, feeling an overwhelming urge to stun his friend. Only two factors stopped him; Harry was normally pretty good at moderating his drinking and didn't need a minder; Harry would (and had) kick his arse if Ron nicked his booze._

_"'m fine..." Harry slurred, draining his second bottle of FireWhiskey. "'S'all good, Won."_

_"Oh, don't remind me." Ron groused. "Every time we have these nights out, Ernie reminds me that I dry-humped his missus in the common room."_

_"Grim." Harry muttered, reaching over and grabbing a third bottle of the potent liquor._

_"Thanks, Harry." Ron said, making an obvious gesture at putting a glass in front of Harry. Maybe it'd stop him drinking straight from the bottle. Never did before, though..._

_"You okay, Harry?" Neville asked. "You seem... not your usual self tonight. What's up?"_

_"'ermione." Harry slurred into his bottle._

_Ron, discretely but expertly, opened a small mirror in his pocket, clearing his throat as he did so._

_

* * *

_

On the next table over, the girls had gathered round to compare make-up tips, recipes, feminine-hygiene product information and gossip about their respective partners. Well, all except the one single lady at the table, Hermione Granger.

_"I don't understand it." Ginny was saying. "Why is it every time we talk about marriage, Neville runs off?"_

_"He's a man, sweetie." Lisa Turpin replied. "You should see Justin. All I have to do is hum the wedding march and he faints. If it wasn't so cute, it'd be irritating."_

_"Do we have to do this every time?" Hermione asked, taking a drink of her Butterbeer. "Can we not keep doing this in front of the single person?"_

_"And when are you gonna ask Harry out?" The six other women at the table asked in perfect unison._

_"Leave it." Hermione commanded sharply. "I'm not in the mood for this tonight."_

_Luna leaned forward, peering absently at Hermione. "Don't you think it's curious how we've all paired up, except for you and Harry?"_

_"No." Hermione replied bluntly._

_"Well, it is." Luna insisted in her dreamy tone. "I've got my Ronnie. Ginny's with Neville-"_

_"And very happy about it." Ginny interrupted. "If you want, Hermione, I could tell you about that time when he licked-"_

_"Stop."_

_Luna carried on. "Seamus finally managed to become worthy of Parvati."_

_"And I make sure he proves himself worthy every night." Parvati purred. "Gotta love the Irish..."_

_"Dean seems to make Padma very happy." Luna continued, glancing over at the shy former-Ravenclaw, who had an _immense_ grin. "Even Lavender seems to have found a compatible partner."_

_"Hey!" The blonde whined playfully. "Why do you make me sound like a strumpet?"_

_"We know you." The other girls said together._

_"Lisa revoked her membership in the Vestal Virgins because she wanted to be with Justin. You, Hermione, are the only one who hasn't pursued her heart's desire."_

_"Even Blaise managed to find someone." The seven girls glanced over at the men's table, where 6'4" Blaise sat, nursing his drink, 5'6" Colin Creevey sitting on his lap. When the true dynamics of that relationship had come to light, that Colin was a top, all of them had been stunned. The commitment ceremony, though, had been as beautiful as any wedding could have been, and the entire group knew that the pair made each other happy._

_"You're the only one who hasn't gone after the man who makes their loins burn." Luna said, gesturing vaguely at a certain green-eyed hunk on the next table. "You're only making yourself, and him, suffer, Hermione."_

_"He's not interested!" Hermione hissed angrily. "He deserves someone worthy, not... not me." She took another long drink from her Butterbeer. "Can we just leave this? Not tonight. Not on Halloween."_

_"No... you'll be too busy making sure Harry's safe."_

_"Right." Hermione agreed carelessly._

_"Wouldn't it be easier to watch over him if you were together?"_

_"Leave it!"_

_In Luna's handbag, a loud beeping could be heard. The blonde looked at her purse in confusion. "That's funny... Ronald's only sitting one table away. Why would he be calling me?" Suitably intrigued, Luna whipped the small mirror out, tapping it with her wand. The small communicator open, the ladies could now hear the conversation at the gentleman's table. Subconsciously, all moved a little closer, not wanting to miss a potentially juicy bit of gossip._

_

* * *

_

"So, what about Hermione?" Ron asked, putting the mirror on the table and hiding it behind one of Harry's empty whiskey bottles.

_"What about her?" Harry asked, looking confused._

_"You said that something was up, then said Hermione's name." Neville pointed out recently. "Logic would dictate that you have something on your mind about her."_

_"Oh, yeah... how'd you guess?"_

_Not wanting to get bogged down in a circular argument (since a pissed Harry was a bloody master at them), Ron cleared his throat. "So, what's got Hermione on your mind?"_

_"Just finking." Harry said, taking a long swallow of his whiskey._

_"Yes, we got that." Ron said dryly. "Just what were you thinking?"_

_There were times, usually when inebriated, that Harry could say something that would make any conversation the group was having completely screech to a halt. This was one of them._

_"I really wanna fuck a pregnant Hermione."_

_Apart from the pumping of the music, there wasn't a sound. Thirteen mouths were hung open in shock at Harry's bold statement._

_"What?"_

_

* * *

_

Hermione's jaw was near her ankles, her eyes were wide and panic was racing through her mind. "Where the bloody hell did that come from?" She whispered. No-one could answer.

_

* * *

_

"Er... where the hell did that come from, Harry?" Colin asked, leaning a little closer.

_"Dunno." Harry grunted. "Just having a think."_

_"No, that's a pretty specific statement for 'just having a think'." Blaise pointed out reasonably. "You have a specific partner in mind, the delectable Miss Granger, some pretty specific circumstances, that she be pregnant, and you wish to engage in sexual relations. Like I said; too specific."_

_Harry just gazed blankly at Blaise. "What?"_

_"Oh, spare me..." Blaise groaned, only stopped when Colin leaned back and muttered soothing comments to his lover._

_"Why do you want to shag Hermione, Harry?" Neville asked, deciding to break it down._

_"You know why."_

_"Yes, we do." Indeed, the entire group knew that Harry wanted Hermione, but couldn't be made to take that final step; actually _telling_ her. "And we've told you about this."_

_"Why would Hermione want me?" Harry slurred. "A scrawny little prat with no redeeming features?"_

_"Because she loves you?" Ron asked._

_"She loves me like a brother, Ron." Harry pointed out, sounding scarily lucid for a moment. "She doesn't want me like that. Can't blame her, really..."_

_

* * *

_

At the girls' table, Hermione was slowly shaking her head. "No... no..."

_

* * *

_

"Why pregnant?" Blaise asked, deciding to see if he could

finally_ get Potter-the-prat to wake up and smell the romance._

_Harry just shrugged._

_"That's not an answer, Harry."_

_After a moment of deep thought (which looked like it really hurt), Harry shrugged. "She'd look cute with the bump."_

_"And who would be the father of this child?" Blaise asked, doggedly pursuing the answer. "Would it matter if it were someone else's child?"_

_The 'kicked-puppy' look on Harry's face spoke volumes, especially to Hermione, who was in prime position to watch Harry. "Yes..." Harry whispered. "Want _my_ kid in her belly..."_

_

* * *

_

Every female eye at their table swivelled to Hermione, who was ignoring them for Harry. She knew that she'd happily give Harry a child (not to mention a lot of practice at making them), but she didn't think he'd be interested in her. She was plain, a bookworm, annoying, a nag, had no tits, a fat arse-

_"Stop gnashing your teeth." Luna whispered, interrupting Hermione's musing. "I can't hear the mirror."_

_"Harry, if you want to have a child with Hermione, why don't you simply tell her how you feel?"_

_"She doesn't want me." Harry slurred, finally draining the third bottle of whiskey. Looking in confusion at the bottle, he had to ask, "Where'd my drink go?"_

_Ron just took the empty bottle and passed him another. He also passed a small vial to Harry, hoping that he could be persuaded to drink the anti-drunkenness potion. At this stage, it wouldn't stop him being pissed, but it'd stop him getting alcohol poisoning again._

_Harry glared at the turquoise potion, remembering the vile effects it had (taking away his buzz... damn it!) but he took it and swallowed quickly. Another mouthful of whiskey chased the horrific taste away, leaving him free to continue imbibing._

_"Why don't you just ask Hermione if she'd be interested?"_

_Again, Harry just shrugged. "Doesn't want me... nobody wants me... they all want the hero..."_

_Ron stood up, gesturing wildly at Dean, who was sitting to Harry's immediate right. "Okay, I've had enough of this." He turned, pointing at Hermione, then at Harry. "For two years, Harry, I've watched you pine away for Hermione. And for two years, Hermione, I watched you staring at Harry. I've had enough. Let's get this sorted, right here, right now."_

_"Weasley..." Blaise drawled, "subtlety doesn't seem to be one of your strong points."_

_"Can it, Blaise." Ron snapped back. "Not in the mood. If Harry would just grow some balls and actually ask her, we all know she'd say yes. And if Hermione would grow some balls-"_

_"Don't want her with balls." Harry said, staring at his bottle. "That'd just be weird."_

_Slowly, Hermione stood up, gathering all her Gryffindor courage. Taking a deep breath, she calmly walked round the men's table until she was stood next to Harry. "Sit up straight, Harry." She said bossily._

_"See? She looks out for me." Harry said, obeying the request._

_Doing something new and never-before seen, Hermione sat in Harry's lap, folding her arms around the man she not-so-secretly loved and wanted to make babies with. Ironic, considering the conversation of the evening. "Harry?"_

_Harry looked up, blinking when he saw Hermione's face mere inches from his own. "Hello."_

_"Harry, I might, just might, have overheard what you said then."_

_"Okay..."_

_"Do you really want babies with me?"_

_"Yeah..."_

_While the two were talking, Ron quickly moved the crowd over to the girls' table, not wanting to interrupt what had been nearly ten years in the making. He left the mirror behind, of course... no need to miss out on the good stuff._

_Hermione tightened her grip on Harry. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"_

_Harry shrugged. "You're pretty, intelligent and wonderful... what could I offer you except misery and pain?"_

_Rolling her eyes, Hermione just shook her head. "Harry, do you know I've wanted you since sixth year?"_

_"Wanted me for what? If it's about that potions book, Hermione, I stopped-"_

_"No, not the potions book." Hermione was, by her very character, a very patient person, and that was a character trait that was certainly needed when dealing with a drunk Harry. "We dealt with the potions book already, Harry. No, I wanted you for something else."_

_"Oh. What?"_

_"Well, I wanted to do all the rude things that I can't tell my parents about."_

_Staring blankly, Harry shrugged. "Okay. What things?"_

_"Sex, Harry."_

_"Male." He said firmly._

_"Merlin help me..."_

_Harry tried to reach onto the table to get his whiskey, but Hermione's arms stopped him._

_"Harry?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"I don't think you should drink any more tonight."_

_"Why not?" He asked with an absolutely gorgeous pout._

_"There's something I need to ask you, Harry, and it's important."_

_"My drink's important."_

_"This is more so."_

_Harry looked at her intently. "Are you sure?"_

_"Quite sure, yes." Hermione pushed the whiskey bottle back, and then snuggled closer. "Harry?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"If you had the chance, would you sleep with me?"_

_"Sleep?"_

_"Have sex."_

_"Yes." He said emphatically._

_"Even though I'm a nagging, bushy-haired know-it-all with no tits?"_

_Harry's head dropped forward, conveniently landing between Hermione's breasts. "You do."_

_She looked down, spotting Harry getting comfortable in between her girls. "Harry." She waited a moment, noting that he looked quite happy where he was. "Harry?"_

_"What?" He whined._

_"They're... not very big."_

_Harry just shook his head. Emphatically. While pushing closer to Hermione. She let out an embarrassed smile as she noted their friends watching the drama unfold with immense amusement. "Harry, people are watching us."_

_"Don't care." He mumbled to her chest. "There were three in the top, and the middle one popped... all down his leg."_

_"Harry!" Hermione half-scolded, half-laughed. "That's rude."_

_"I know."_

_"But... if you fancy me and want to make babies, why not tell me? You know there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."_

_"I know you'd do anything if I asked you, Hermione." Slowly, he managed to pull his head up... not too far from her chest, though. "It's not fair to you."_

_"Bugger fair." Hermione said. "Harry, I want you. It's almost always been you. I just didn't think you'd want me."_

_Another voice intruded on the conversation. "Harry, Hermione, stop talking, go home and have sex." Luna commanded gently. "Harry, stop drinking."_

_"Why?" Harry returned his head to those oh-so-comfortable pillows that resided on Hermione's chest._

_"Because I don't want you to get brewer's droop." Hermione said, smiling when he just mumbled into her top. "I don't want you passing out early."_

_"Hermione?" Harry whispered conspiratorially. "Can I tell you something secret?"_

_Naturally, Hermione leaned closer. "Of course."_

_"I'm really drunk." Harry said. "I have no idea what you're talking about."_

_Under other circumstances, Harry would have lost his membership card to the 'red-blooded male' club, but it seemed tonight, fate was smiling on him, as Hermione leaned closer to patiently explain._

_"I'm taking you home, Harry. Back to Grimmauld Place. Once we get there, I'm gonna strip you off and we're gonna have sex. Lots of practice to have before that baby."_

_Harry still looked confused._

_"Hermione, apparate him home. We'll take care of the tab." Ron said. "Go now, before he says or does something weird."_

_Hermione just shook her head, creating an apparition field in her magical core, spreading it to side-along Harry and vanished with a 'crack'_

* * *

Since Hogwarts, Harry had prided himself on learning new things. The previous evening, he'd learned quite a bit; Hermione, while prim and proper in many things, was like a fucking wildcat in bed. She also had the stamina of three girls. He also learnt that with the proper inspirational speeches (translation; dirty talk, another thing Hermione seemed to be an expert at), he was capable of multiple orgasms.

As the pair approached the natural conclusion of their first coupling, Hermione had muttered just four words, which had smoothly set Harry up for the rest of the night. The four words? "Make me pregnant, Harry."

Now, lying in bed with a ferocious hangover, Harry was beginning to panic. He'd had sex with Hermione once, fucked three times and the last time... the last time, they'd made love.

Prising one eye open, he winced as the sunlight seemed to burn into his brain. An eye-watering moment later, he was able to see... bushy-hair. And a pair of sparkling chocolate eyes.

"Oh, fuck..." He muttered.

"Again?" Hermione asked playfully, staring up at him. "Hungover?"

"Oh, hell yes." Harry replied firmly.

Hermione rolled over, giving Harry a perfect view of her shapely bottom. The fact that Hermione thought the sculpted perfection was 'fat' was simply proof that even the smartest witch of the age could be mistaken about some things. A second later, she rolled back, a small bottle of green goop in hand. "I made a hangover remedy yesterday, just before we went out. I thought you might need it."

Nodding gratefully, Harry took and opened the bottle, took a deep breath and swallowed the whole thing. For a moment, cataclysmic doom seemed to fall over the world, but the banging in his head upped and vanished like a fart in the wind, while the snakes in his belly agreed to have a sleep until next Halloween.

"We did?" He asked softly.

"Oh, yes." Hermione cooed. "Considering you were pissed, Harry, five times was very impressive. I really enjoyed it."

"I did, too." Harry admitted. "Why, though? You're Hermione Granger! You could have any man... or woman, if you wanted... why me?"

"Because I love your thick arse, Harry." Hermione said, reaching round to grab his butt cheek. "Although, calling it 'thick' is rude. You've got a thick head, but a very nice bottom."

Harry just blushed. "Hermione... what you said last night..."

"Which bit?"

"The, er... the things you said just before..."

"You mean the 'make me pregnant, Harry'?" Hermione asked, seeing that this wasn't a moment for levity. "Yeah, I meant that."

"Really?"

"Yes." Hermione's hand moved from buttocks to penis. "I want this to spit into me as many times as necessary so I can carry our child, Harry." She smiled as she saw his shocked (and quite aroused) expression. "Actually, that's not entirely accurate. The _first_ of our children, Harry."

He gulped. "Er... Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why are you stroking me?"

She sat up, straddling his waist and moving into position. "Because we need to do this as many times as possible, Harry. That baby isn't going to create itself... and I want to be pregnant as soon as possible. After all, can't let the 'Hero-Who-Saved-The-Wizarding-World' not get his wish, can we?"

"W-Wish?" Harry asked as Hermione slid down his length.

"Yeah, you said you wanna have sex with me when I'm pregnant. Can't do that 'til I'm pregnant, Harry... so get moving, Potter."

A genuine smile came over his face. "Yes, ma'am."

_

* * *

_

Saturday, 11_th__ August, 2001_  
_St. Mungo's Maternity Ward, London_

"I'm gonna fucking kill you, Potter!" Hermione screamed as she concentrated every ounce of strength she could spare on crushing the bones in Harry's hand.

She had, indeed, become pregnant very quickly after the 'formalisation' of their relationship. The fact that both of them had quit their jobs, since Harry was more than rich, in preparation for making a baby (which meant they shagged all day), simply made things easier.

Harry had more that certainly got his wish. During Hermione's pregnancy, the two had attempted to set a world record for most sexual encounters. According to Guinness, they'd come very close to beating the current record. Hermione, during a post-coital cuddle, had simply told Harry they'd try harder during the next one. That, of course, led to another sexual encounter.

Now, she was in St. Mungo's, and was about to deliver the first of their children. "You come near me with that prick again and I'll chop it off and shove it up your arse!"

"Violent." The midwife, who'd been there, seen it and done it all a thousand times before, said simply. "Now, Mrs. Potter, you need to begin pushing."

"I am pushing!" Hermione roared, a stray tendril of her magic turning Harry's hair blonde. "Damn it, Harry, this is all your fault!"

"I know." Harry replied. "But, just think, Hermione; soon you'll be holding our baby..."

"You can carry the next one!" Hermione snarled, again attempting to crush his hand. Had she been able to reach her favourite part of Harry, the possibility of pain would have scared the crap out of Voldemort, never mind a poor, defenceless 'Boy-Who-Lived'.

One hour, forty seven minutes, nine death threats and an offer to turn Harry into a woman later, Hermione was holding a beautiful baby girl. Bushy-black hair, emerald green eyes and an adorable smile was the face of Rose Emily Potter, and the look of pride, love and sheer joy on her Daddy's face made everything worthwhile to Hermione.

"She's beautiful, Harry." Hermione said, holding her out to her husband. Slowly, Harry took the little bundle, holding it protectively to his chest, just like they'd been taught in baby class.

Looking up, Harry could only say one thing to his beautiful wife. "Thank you, Hermione."

She smiled tiredly. "It was my pleasure, Harry."

"That's not what you said earlier."

Hermione yawned as she accepted her daughter back and snuggled down. "No... no, it wasn't. I love you, Harry, more than you know. I'd never hurt you."

Harry just smiled.

"Well... not _that_ part of you, anyway. Need that bit to make more." Hermione chuckled at her husband's shocked expression. "Well, go on, then. Go and announce to everyone that there's a new Potter."

As Harry left the birthing room, he reflected on how lucky he was to have such an understanding spouse.

_

* * *

_

Saturday, 31_st__ October, 2167_  
_Master Bedroom, #12 Grimmauld Place, London_

The end was nigh. The Potters had lived a long, full life. A life of happiness. A life of joy. A life of difficulty. But most importantly, a life of _family_. Harry and Hermione had stopped having children at number eleven, not wanting to prove Trelawney right by having twelve children. That was just too frightening to bear.

Harry had, on the other hand, proved the other part of Trelawney's prophecy correct. At the age of forty-one, he'd become the Minister of Magic. Using the ancient, bigoted laws, he'd immediately given Hermione the position of Senior Undersecretary, and together, the two had burned away those same laws they'd exploited.

By the time their final child had graduated from Hogwarts, the magical world was truly a pinnacle of civilisation.

Now, though, there was so little time left. Earlier in the day, there'd been a Potter family gathering, with children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and even great-great-grandchildren. They'd laughed and cried and celebrated and loved.

Together, lying in the bed where they'd first expressed their love, and created each of their eleven children, Harry and Hermione Potter were holding hands, waiting for the end.

"Hermione?" Harry croaked gently, hauling his old body closer to her.

"Yes?"

"I... Thank you, Hermione. For everything."

She smiled warmly, and for a moment, he didn't see the old woman with thinning white hair and wrinkles. He saw the beautiful, radiant twenty-one year old who'd handed him his first child. "For you, Harry, my love, it was a pleasure. We've had some good times together, my love."

Harry sniffled as he felt tears welling up in his eyes. "Some great times. I love you... more than life itself."

At the end of the bed, a glowing figure appeared. He appeared to be an old man, wearing lurid purple robes with moving stars on them. "Harry. Hermione."

"Albus?" Harry looked at his old mentor with shock. "But..."

"It's time for you to come home, Harry." Dumbledore said, holding out his left hand. "It's time to meet your parents, my boy." Extending his right, a turned his head to Hermione. "And you, my dear Hermione. Your family is waiting for you."

Harry was about to take the old man's hand, but hesitated. "What about..." He trailed off.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said, chuckling happily, "do you really believe that you and your wife could be separated? 'The Couple of the Ages' I believe you were called. Even in death, you cannot be parted. Your wedding vows didn't bind you together in this life. You were bound together for eternity."

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand gently. "To the next great adventure, wife?"

"Together, husband."

The two raised up off the bed, leaving behind the battered shells that had housed their souls for these many years. Together, they entered the light, feeling the warmth and love of all those who'd gone before them surrounding them.

But always, they would be together. Harry and Hermione Potter. Forever.


	8. It's All About Lily

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

_

* * *

_

Seventh Year Boys' Dormitory, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
_Friday, 4__th__ July, 1997_  
_Victory over Voldemort Day_

"Harry?"

The young man in question, the guy who used to be known as the 'Boy-Who-Lived', but now the 'One Chosen to Save Us All'. Personally, Harry was just waiting for either Seamus or Neville to start doing Lord of the Rings jokes. Shaking his head, since it'd been all over the damned place in the last ten hours, he looked up at the person who'd spoken his name. "Hermione... what's up?" He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. "Good god, woman, it's three am! Why aren't you asleep?"

Hermione sat on the edge of his bed, her entire body screaming nervousness. "Can we talk?"

It didn't take long for Harry to read his best friend, and saw that something was genuinely bothering her. He hauled himself upright, shuffling up and leaning his back on the headboard. "Sure... what's wrong, Hermione? You look... terrified."

Sighing, Hermione shuffled down the bed so she was leaning against the end board. They were now separated by just under six feet of space. "I'm scared, Harry."

"Scared?" Harry repeated. "Why are you scared, Hermione? It's over now."

"No... it isn't." Hermione said sadly. "Not for me... I've got something else to do."

"What?" He blinked as realisation came over him. "Your parents... you need to go back and recover your parents, don't you?"

Hermione nodded. "Finding them probably won't be too difficult, but... what happens when I restore their memories? They'll hate me..." She whimpered slightly, but managed to get herself under control. She didn't want to dump all her problems on Harry... after all, that's what pretty much every witch and wizard in Britain had done.

"You'll be okay, Hermione." Harry said supportively. "I'm sure they'll understand. They're your parents; they'll forgive you."

"Promise?" She asked in a small voice, knowing that Harry was doing his best to cheer her up... and succeeding, too.

"Hey, the Harry Potter 'Boy-Who-Lived' guarantee." Harry said pompously, before he cracked a smile. "You know it, Hermione. Stop fretting about it." He yawned, before he covered his mouth and grimaced slightly at her. "Sorry... bad dreams."

_Maybe I can help him chase those away..._ Hermione thought to herself. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I've decided something... I'm leaving tomorrow to Australia."

Harry frowned slightly. "That's not giving me a lot of time to prepare, Hermione. Can't we wait a few days?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry. _We_ aren't going to recover them."

It took a moment for him to disguise the odd hurt he felt, but he managed admirably. "Why?"

"I can't ask you to come with me, Harry." She said simply. "You've given up so much for everyone... I couldn't ask you to do this-"

"You're not asking." Harry interrupted gently. "I'm offering, freely and without coercion. Let's not forget how much you've given up for me, Hermione... without you, I'd have been dead years ago."

Again, she shook her head. "It's okay, Harry. I'm just planning on going getting them and coming home. It's not a problem." She leaned forward, putting her hand on his shin, the closest bit she could reach that wasn't a foot. "Besides, you're exhausted, and still recovering. Madam Pomfrey hasn't cleared you for magic-use yet, which means no Portkeys, and with all the damage you took in that battle, you couldn't even fly safely. I'll be fine."

Harry sighed unhappily. "Are you sure, Hermione? You know I'd be more than happy to come with you."

"I know, Harry, and I appreciate it. But it's not necessary. I'll be fine." She smiled at him, before sobering up slightly. "So, what were those bad dreams?"

He stiffened slightly. "Just... dreams of death and destruction. People I care about getting hurt and maimed." He chuckled darkly. "The usual." Then he snorted. "It's sad that, isn't it?"

"Maybe I can help." She offered.

"Hermione, I've tried almost everything you suggested." Harry said warily. "I've kept a dream journal, I've pretty much exhausted the school's stock of Dreamless Sleep, I've tried directed dreaming, lucid dreaming... there's just nothing to be done about it." He smiled weakly. "I'll be okay."

"There's one other thing I can suggest." Hermione said, then got up onto her haunches. "Just one other."

"Oh?" Harry's eyebrow arched delicately. "What's that?"

Hermione slowly crawled up the bed, stopping when she was almost nose-to-nose with Harry. "Fun..."

"Eh?"

"I think I can help you." She said as she moved her knees underneath her, reaching up and caressing his face. "I can help wear you out."

Harry wasn't thick. "Hermione... are you sure? I mean... you've never-"

"Never _shown_ you, Harry." She said. "Well, apart from that comment last year... but, you are quite a fanciable bloke, Mr. Potter."

Rolling his eyes, Harry just scoffed. "Yeah, a short, scrawny, half-blind social-retard with bad hair."

Hermione shook her head. "You're a good-looking guy, Harry... besides, what's wrong with two friends having a bit of fun together?"

"What, 'fuck-buddies'?" Harry asked with distaste.

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that..." Hermione said. "But, I can't dismiss the sentiment. Come on, Harry... just once." She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his. After a moment, he responded, pulling her closer. Fortunately for Hermione, Harry'd only just gone to sleep, so he didn't have morning breath.

While she was kissing him, she shuffled slightly to her side, before lifting up her leg to straddle him. Bare seconds later, she was being prodded by a newly-awoken tool. She pulled back slightly, a small grin on her face. "Interested?" She asked coyly.

"Minx..." Harry groaned. "A bloody tease, Hermione..."

Reaching behind herself, Hermione pulled her wand from her waistband. Two quick flicks and they were both naked. She glanced down, spotting Harry's tool bobbing freely. He wasn't huge, but he looked to be about seven inches and quite thick. More than enough, as far as Hermione was concerned. She moved closer, feeling it pressing against her suddenly flushed flesh.

"I'm not teasing, Harry." She whispered breathily. "I want this... you want this... let's do this..."

She shuffled even further forward, raising herself up and positioning herself, before she sank down slowly...

* * *

A half hour later, Hermione was safe in Harry's embrace as he drifted off to sleep. Like all first times, it wasn't great. Her crotch _burned_ from the destruction of her hymen, and the pain-reduction charm she'd cast had got rid of it long enough for her to enjoy the encounter. Naturally, Harry had popped barely a minute into the encounter, flushing with embarrassment, before Hermione assured him it was normal and coaxed him into a second try less than four minutes later. That time, they'd found their release together, and he'd fallen asleep.

Now, she grabbed a pillow as she shuffled out and thrust it into Harry's arms. He wriggled in his sleep for a moment, before settling back down. She quickly summoned their clothes back from wherever she'd banished them too, and redressed quickly.

Taking a final look at Harry, she smiled and pressed a featherlight kiss onto his forehead. "Sleep well, Harry." She left the room, not looking back.

* * *

'_Books and Cleverness' Bookstore, Magic Alley, Sydney, Australia_  
_Saturday, 8__th__ June, 2002_

Hermione smiled as he last customer left for the day, before she sighed in relief, locking the door. While she enjoyed her job as owner of a bookstore, it was _really_ tiring on Saturdays. Sometimes, it seemed like every witch and wizard in Australia decided to go shopping in Magic Alley on Saturdays... still, the profits looked to be pretty good for the day.

She'd managed Books and Cleverness ever since she'd moved to Australia, just after finding her parents. Originally, she'd planned on staying for a few weeks then going home with her folks, but there had been... complications. First, when her parents' memories had been restored, they hadn't wanted to go home. After seeing some of the sights, not to mention the weather, she could understand that.

Second... well, the second point was more... potent. Hermione glanced at her watch, before a knock on the door gathered her attention. Glancing down, she spotted the subject of her musings. Opening the door, a bushy-haired child shot into the store, wrapping her mother in a tight hug.

"Hey, baby girl." Hermione said, hugging her daughter back. As she pulled back, she saw tears in her daughter's eyes. "What's wrong, Lily?"

Lily huffed for a moment (a trait _definitely_ inherited from her mother), before settling down. "Can we talk, Mummy?"

Intrigued, Hermione led her daughter into the back of the shop, before ascending the stairs to the flat at the top of the shop. Like most places in the Wizarding world, the flat was far larger on the inside than should be possible, but with magic, miracles could and routinely did happen.

Putting the kettle on, Hermione quickly made the tea, passing over a lukewarm cup to her daughter, before the retired to the couch. "What's wrong?"

"Mummy... why don't I have a daddy?" Lily asked intently.

Hermione managed to contain her gasp at the question, even though she'd known it would be coming one day. "Why'd you ask, honey?" She asked, hoping to buy a little more time. Unfortunately for Hermione, just like the 'huff' trait, her daughter'd also inherited a rather obsessive need to learn things.

"During one of the talks at school today, Mrs. Jackman asked us what our parents did. Everyone laughed at me when I told them I didn't know who my Daddy is."

Resolving to come back to the 'laughed at me' comment, Hermione nibbled on her lip. "You... you do have a Daddy, honey." She said slowly, after a moment. "It's just... he doesn't know about you."

"Oh..." Lily copied her mother's nibbling trick unknowingly, before asking another question. "Was Daddy a bad man?"

Hermione gasped, but didn't get a chance to answer before her daughter asked another question.

"Did he aboos you?"

"Abuse." Hermione corrected automatically, before shaking her head emphatically. "Absolutely not, Lily!" She winced as she saw her daughter's shocked expression. "I'm sorry... but that's not a good question."

"You told me there was no such thing as a bad question." Lily pouted.

"Well... when I said that, I didn't think you'd be asking questions like these." Hermione muttered. "No, Lily. You're Daddy wasn't a bad man. On the contrary, your Daddy's one of the best men who ever existed."

Lily's green eyes stared intently at Hermione's brown. "Why don't we live with Daddy?" Another thought crossed her mind, making her look a little frightened. "Is Daddy dead? Is Daddy in prison?"

"No, honey. He's not dead. He's alive and well. And what makes you think he'd be in prison?

"Well, Willy said that maybe he forced you?"

Making a mental note to drop a heavy book on the little git the next time Willy Madison came into the store, Hermione shook her head. "No, Lils. Your Daddy's a good man. He'd never do something like that. Like I said, he simply doesn't know about you."

"Why not?"

Hermione sighed, and took a soothing sip of her tea. "How much do you know about the War in Britain?"

"I read the books." Lily said, making Hermione roll her eyes.

"Of course you did." She said dryly. "Which books?"

"All the ones downstairs."

_Why am I not surprised?_ Hermione groused good-naturedly to herself. "Well, I was in that war. In a few of the books, I'm mentioned by name. I don't have those here in the store, since I didn't want people to know about my contributions."

"Why not?"

"Because sometimes, honey, when you leave behind your past, you don't want the reminders. Well, I went to school in the same year as Harry Potter. We were even Sorted into the same house at Hogwarts."

"He's so cool!" Lily said. "We talked about him in history class. He saved the whole of Britain."

"No, sweetie." Hermione corrected gently. "He saved the world, not just Britain. Had Voldemort won there, he'd have moved across to Europe and started there. Eventually, he'd have taken over everything. So, Harry Potter saved the world. For everyone."

"He's so cool. Do you think I could ever meet him, Mummy?"

Hermione smiled slightly. "I'm sure you could, honey."

"Do you think I could marry him when I'm older?" Lily asked, a bright smile on her face.

"I don't think that'll be possible, sweetie." Hermione said, not wanting to crush the dream, just... _redirect_ it into something that wouldn't involve incest.

"Why not?" Lily demanded with a pout.

"It's... complicated."

Lily just pouted some more.

"Okay..." Hermione relented slightly. "Just after the war, in fact, the day it finished and the day before I came out here to find grandma and granddad, me and your Daddy did what parents do to make babies. When I got here, I found out I was pregnant."

"Why not go back to Daddy?"

Hermione sighed again. "Your Daddy was very... well, it's kind of hard to explain. When I tell you his name, honey, you might understand. Your Daddy... is Harry Potter."

Lily's jaw dropped.

"You're probably a bit too young to understand some things."

"I am not!" Hermione's precocious daughter exclaimed haughtily. "I'm four!"

"Okay, let me see if I can explain it. You know how you have chores around the house?"

Lily nodded.

"Well, you only have two chores to do, don't you? Make your bed each day, and empty your bin every Sunday. Imagine if you had to do _every_ chore." Lily frowned slightly. "Okay, you had to wash the dishes, cook the food, clean, hoover... all of it. That would be very stressful, wouldn't it?" Lily nodded. "Okay, now picture that you had to do the chores for everyone in Magic Alley. Every home, every business... you had to do everything. Everyone was counting on you."

"I think I understand, Mummy."

"Right. Well, back in Britain, Harry was held responsible by _every_ witch and wizard in the country to save them. And he had to live with that pressure for seven years. When I came to Australia and found out I was going to have you, I didn't want to add any more pressure to Harry. He'd had enough responsibility before. So, I decided that we'd stay here."

Lily stared at her intently. "There's something else, Mummy."

"You always were too perceptive." Hermione said with yet another sigh. "Harry Potter was the saviour of the Wizarding world, honey..." She trailed off, and completed the sentence in her mind. _I'm just not good enough for him. He deserves someone better than me._

"Mummy?"

"Hmm?" Hermione looked up from her introspection. "Oh, it's... it doesn't matter, honey."

"I want to meet him." Lily said quietly. "Can we go and see him, Mummy?"

Hermione paused for a moment, considering her options. She _did_ want to go and see Harry, it was true, since she'd lied to him that last night, telling him that she only 'fancied' him. It was fortunate, in a perverse way, that Harry was so inexperienced with love, or he'd have been able to spot her infatuation light-years away.

"I don't..." She trailed off as she thought about it. It'd been five long years since she'd been in Britain, and she missed her homeland. Surely it wouldn't be too bad to go back, would it? "I suppose we could."

The smile that lit up her daughter's little face broke her composure.

"Okay, sweetie. I'll put something together, but you have to understand that it could take some time."

"I'll wait." The little girl promised immediately. "I'll be good, Mummy, I promise!"

"You always are." Hermione said, scooping her daughter into a tight hug. "We'll find him, sweetie..."

* * *

It took almost two weeks for Hermione to get enough cover for the shop and arrange a place for her to stay while in Britain. She'd had to arrange with her Mum to come with her, so that little Lily wouldn't be left alone while there. Finally, though, they were ready to go.

Originally, she'd planned to take a Portkey back, but her mother had immediately cried off that idea. She'd _hated_ the one Portkey trip she'd taken, dropping to her knees and hurling her guts up for almost ten minutes. She also forbid Hermione from inflicting the tortuous magical travel system to her granddaughter.

The plane flight was long and dull, prompting the three ladies to sleep most of it. Almost twenty-four hours later, the flight landed at Heathrow, and the three females raced to the hotel for some decent food and a bed.

Once rested, Hermione explained that she needed to get 'the lay of the land' before she took Lily to see her father. Pouting adorably, Lily nodded in resignation.

This left Hermione to apparate to the small play park on Grimmauld Place. Once there, she glanced around, checking to see if she could find #12. To her surprise, she could.

_Hmm... they've not reset the _Fidelius_ it seems. Still, Voldemort's gone now; no need to._ Another thought crossed her mind. _Does Harry still live here? Maybe he went back to Godric's Hollow... ah, well. If I don't ask, I won't know._

Gathering her courage, she stepped out of the park, marching up the street to #12. Once there, she hesitated for a moment, before knocking resolutely on the door.

A few moments later, she could hear someone coming down the hallway to the door. "Who is it?" A voice called out.

"It's Hermione Granger." The young lady in question shouted back.

The door was wrenched open, revealing Remus Lupin, but not a Remus Lupin she'd ever seen before. This one looked _furious_. "What do you want?" He demanded brusquely.

Hermione was taken aback by the rage on the face of the normally-placid werewolf. "Er... well, I was hoping to speak to Harry."

For a long moment, Remus stared at her, before he took a step back. "Inside." He commanded sharply.

Following the instruction, Hermione stepped into the house, noting the changes in décor since the last time she'd been there. Instead of dark, drab and dreary being the nature of the furnishings, everything was bright and shiny. Even the evil portrait had gone. "Looks different." She commented.

"Most things do after five years." Remus said spitefully as he stomped into the kitchen, leaving Hermione to follow meekly.

As she entered the kitchen, she spotted several Weasleys and Tonks. They appeared to be sitting down to a meal, although Hermione's abused body-clock couldn't tell what meal it was. "Hi, there."

Every face wore an identical frown upon seeing her stood there.

"What the _hell_ do you want?" One of the twins snarled at her.

Hermione was again shocked by the way she was being treated. "Er... I came to see Harry, actually."

"No." Molly snapped instantly. "You've done enough damage, young lady!"

"'Damage'?" Hermione asked. "What 'damage'?"

Lupin cleared his throat as he sat next to Tonks, taking his coffee and draining the mug. "Were you in Australia?" He demanded as he set his cup down.

"Yeah... up until the day before yesterday." Hermione replied.

"Tell me something; what are the laws regarding staying in Australia if you're not a citizen?"

"Remus, what does this have to do-"

"Answer the question!" The placid man suddenly roared.

Hermione jumped, but quickly answered. "Well, if you're not a citizen, you can only spend thirty days there, before you have to leave. You can't return for another thirty days after that. I think it's something to do with their residency laws."

"It is." Remus confirmed. "Thirty days in, then thirty days out. Now, you're probably wondering why I'm asking you this."

"I am." Hermione said.

"Harry Potter has been living thirty days at a time in Australia for the last five years. He's been looking for you. For _five years!_"

Tonks placed a hand on Remus' shoulder. "Calm down, Moony." She instructed calmly, before turning back to Hermione. "Since Remmy's a little upset, I'll clarify. According to Harry, you told him that you were going to Australia while he was still on medical confinement, yes?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, as soon as he was well enough to travel, he decided to surprise you. So, he bought a Portkey to Oz so he could come and find you. After thirty days, he was instructed by the Australian Ministry to vacate the country because of the residency laws."

"Right..." Hermione said slowly.

"So, he came back here, set up in Grimmauld Place, and began to use his computer to try and track you down the Muggle way. Once thirty days was up, he immediately portkeyed back to Australia. He's been doing this ever since. He's become obsessed with finding you."

"Oh..." Hermione was deeply ashamed with herself in that moment at her actions, but there wasn't a lot she could do about that at this point. "Well... things were... complicated after I got there."

Remus rolled his eyes, followed by the Weasleys. "'Complicated'? Would it have killed you to write to Harry? Just a simple little note would have done. He's been going out of his mind looking for you, Granger, and you've just sat there, having a big laugh about it!"

"_Calm down_, Moony." Tonks commanded, a little louder than last time. "Let's let her answer." She looked up at Hermione. "Well?"

"I... When I got there..." Hermione trailed off. "It's difficult to explain. There was a good reason that I didn't contract Harry, Tonks. It wasn't selfishness on my part. I just... things happened... And Harry had only just fought Voldemort. I thought he'd get on with his life without his annoying know-it-all around."

Ron scoffed loudly. "Hermione, you know... I thought you were clever. Do you know what you've done to Harry?"

"I-"

The youngest male Weasley didn't get her a chance to finish. "No, you don't know. Harry is now an alcoholic and it seems that he's becoming more than a little mentally disturbed. He's pretty much drunk whenever he's in Britain. This is all because of you."

"I-"

"Stop thinking about yourself!" Ron suddenly roared, shocking Hermione. She knew that he had a temper, and it'd often been directed at her, but never like this! "Don't you feel ashamed of yourself?"

Hermione nodded.

"You said that you thought he'd just get on with his life without you around." Remus said, his normal calm, collected demeanour back, which made what he said next even more damning. "For the smartest witch of your generation, Hermione, you're a poor student of the human heart." Remus sneered. "That boy loved you from the day he met you. Everything he did, he did it for you. He didn't destroy Voldemort for me. He didn't destroy Voldemort for the Weasleys, or the Lovegoods, or the Abbots... he destroyed him for _you._ And you stamped on his heart and left him behind."

Before Hermione could come up with a rebuttal, a pinging sound went off in the kitchen.

"Oh, shite..." Ron muttered.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked.

"Harry's just woken up." Tonks said as she stood, heading over to one of the cupboard. She began pulling out small bottles of potions. "It'd be best if you _weren't_ here for this."

While Tonks was getting out potions, Molly made her way over to the cooker, and threw some bacon into a frying pan. Ron, Fred and George each drew their wands and aimed them at the doorway. Ginny, on the other hand, remained seated and scowled at Hermione.

"Stay quiet." Remus said as he flicked his wand at Hermione and gesturing sharply to the darkest corner of the kitchen.

As Hermione moved out of the way, she could feel the cold sensation of a disillusionment charm washing over her. Barely a moment later, the door to the kitchen opened with a slam, and Hermione got her first look at the man she loved in five years.

Frankly, he looked like shit. He was unwashed, unshaven, hair unkempt and his clothes had clearly not been washed in some time. He looked like death without the cursory warm up.

_What have I done to you?_ She thought sadly, seeing the direct results of her actions. Instantly, the group sprang into action. Remus pulled him into the kitchen, catching him when he swayed dangerously. Tonks was already moving forward with a couple of small potions vials. While Remus pushed his head back, Tonks held his nose and poured the contents of the vials into his mouth. She waited until they'd been swallowed before releasing him, and Remus pushed him into a chair.

While the older couple were sobering Harry up, the three male Weasleys were flicking their wands, cleaning his clothes and straightening his hair out.

Harry looked oblivious as the five people worked on him. Once he was pushed into the chair, he stared straight ahead. He breathed deeply, before he began sniffing the air. Rusty synapses fired as a spark worked its way forward from his long-term memory. Slowly, he stood up, stopping the five from working. Continuing to sniff, Harry glanced round the kitchen, before he took a shaky step forward.

Hermione held her breath as she watched Harry start sniffing. She had a horrible feeling...

Continuing to sniff, Harry made his way around the table, zeroing in on Hermione's location by smell alone. He was barely two feet from her when his eyes locked on hers, even though she was still disillusioned.

Harry span round, his eyes narrowed to near-glowing green slits. "This isn't funny, Remus, and I _don't_ appreciate it!" His voice was cold and distant.

"What's not funny?" Remus asked.

"You know damned well what!" Harry roared, a stray strand of his magic reaching out and turning the man blue. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Lupin-the-Smurf glanced down at his hand and rolled his eyes. "I'm not 'doing' anything to you, Harry."

"Then who the hell is she?" He shouted, gesturing at the still-disillusioned Hermione. "Damn you, Remus!"

"H-Harry?" Hermione reached up, tapping her forehead with her wand, removing the concealing charm. As the disillusionment field faded, Harry's eyes widened. "Hi..."

"Hermione..." Harry shook his head, reaching up to scrub his eyes. "No... no, she left us..."

"It's me, Harry." Hermione said slowly, not moving forward. "I... I've come back."

"No, she left me..." Harry muttered, shaking his head. "She left me behind..."

Hermione cleared her throat nervously, clearly scared by some of the looks she was getting from the rest of the group. "I'm back, Harry."

With a startling amount of lucidity, he stared at her. "Why?"

"I-I... I thought I should come home."

"No home..." Harry muttered, the lucidity up and vanishing like a fart in the wind. "Nothing left... nothing but bits of stone and dust... fluff in my pockets..."

Hermione glanced at Remus.

"It's one of his better days." Remus said casually, tapping himself with his wand and removing the Smurf curse. "You should see him the day he comes home. That's... different."

Harry looked up at Remus. "I _am_ stood right here, you know."

"Yes, I know." Remus replied.

Dismissing the older man, Harry turned back to the newcomer. "You're not Hermione."

"Excuse me?" Hermione said, looking politely confused. "What do you mean?"

"Aura's different." Harry said, looking her up and down. "There's something... missing, and a link I've... never..." Slowly, his face drained of all emotion. "Who is it?"

"Harry, I don't know what you're-"

"I'm talking," Harry enunciated _extremely_ clearly, "about the father... of your child."

Silence didn't just reign in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place; it poured. Every eyeball swivelled to Hermione, who blushed furiously under the combined stares. Harry, after a moment of glaring, stalked from the room, letting the door slam loudly behind him.

Hermione sighed. "That _so_ wasn't the way I wanted _that_ to come out."

Most of the occupants of the kitchen began speaking at once, only to trail off as Tonks let out an ear-shattering whistle through her teeth. "Thank you." Tonks said primly, before her hair turned black. To those who knew her, it meant that she was becoming _very_ serious. "Now, Hermione... what the hell is going on?"

With another sigh, Hermione leaned back in her chair. "Yes... I have a daughter. She turned four in April."

Remus was quick with his maths. "Which means that she was conceived... five years ago."

"She was." Hermione said simply.

"Who?" Ron spat, looking infuriated with her. "Who's the Dad?"

Ginny gasped. "Oh my god! It's Harry, isn't it?"

Hermione's eyes shot open to maximum wideness, making her look, for a moment, like Luna Lovegood. "Would you care to explain how you came to that conclusion?"

"It fits." Ginny said. "What was it? Some last minute shag before you left?"

Unconsciously, Hermione nodded. "Yeah... the day before I left for Australia to find my folks, I crept into Harry's dorm-room and we... well, you can probably figure it out."

"Why, Hermione?" Remus asked. "Why did you stay away? Especially if you were carrying Harry's child?"

"Remus, how much did people dump on him during his time at Hogwarts?" She asked with more than a little heat. "The entire Wizarding world thrust every responsibility on Harry that they could. Even Dumbledore did. Every member of the Order just kept adding that to him, wanting him to save everyone."

Remus looked down, a little guilty. Like everyone else, he'd concentrated on the fight, rather than the fighters. "I..."

"When I learned that I was pregnant, I decided to stay in Australia. Harry was finally free from everything. He could do whatever he wanted. Who was I to take that freedom from him?"

Tonks' changed to a deep crimson, a biological 'red alert' to those who knew her. "You silly bitch!" She hissed quietly, but dangerously. "All his life, all he ever wanted was a family!"

"I know that." Hermione snapped back, just as dangerously. "But he never wanted a family with _me!_ It was _never_ me!"

"Oh, it was." Ginny said. "You were the one, Hermione. You always were. Why would he spend five _years_ searching for you, if it was someone else?"

Hermione blinked. "I..." Realisation settled into her mind. _Oh, god..._ "I never knew!" She proclaimed suddenly.

"Well, 'smartest witch of her generation' isn't bloody right!" Remus snapped. "After everything, you end up having Harry's child, then not telling him about it! I suppose you've got some fella over there taking care of Harry's daughter!"

"No!" Hermione proclaimed. "There's no-one else... there never could be."

"You'd better go." Tonks said firmly.

"I..." Hermione slumped. "Yeah... If... if Harry wants to see me, I'm staying at the Marriott with my Mum and... and Lily."

Remus stared _hard_ at Hermione. "You named her Lily?" He asked in a whisper. "You named Harry's daughter 'Lily'?"

"Yes." Hermione said. "Like I said, we're at the Marriott... if he wants to come and see her, he's more than welcome."

"We'll let him know." Tonks said coolly. "You should go, Granger. Give tempers a chance to cool."

"Right." Hermione said sadly as she stood up. "I... I'll see you around, I guess." Without another word, she left the kitchen, then the house before she vanished with a soft 'pop'.

"The bloody nerve of her!" Fred said angrily. "Just turning up like that!"

Molly shook her head. "Leave it, George."

"I'm Fred."

"Fred, leave it." Molly commanded. "Like Tonks said, I think we should just let things cool down a little." She glanced at the clock above the cooker. "Isn't it time you two headed to the shop?"

The twins looked up. "Yeah... yeah, best had." George said. "Will you guys be okay with Harry?"

"We'll be fine." Remus said. "We'll give him a chance to calm down, then we'll see what he wants to do."

Ron rubbed his face warily. "I don't know, Remus... this could be trouble. After everything he's gone through..."

"I know, Ron." Remus replied, just as tired. "But, we agreed years ago that we'd take care of him, and we'll continue to do so. Ultimately, it's up to him. It always has been."

* * *

Unknown to everyone, Harry had been sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the hallway during the entire encounter. He'd heard everything, every revelation. The revelation that he had a daughter. The revelation that Hermione cared about him. The revelation that she was still single, that there 'never could be' anyone else... He was in shock, but a frisson of excitement washed through him. He had a family!

* * *

Fred and George Floo'd into the Leaky Cauldron, both deep in thought over the morning's revelations. They grabbed a six-pack of Butterbeer from Tom the barman, before opening the portal into Diagon Alley so they could head into the shop.

"I still can't believe it." George said suddenly as they strolled down the Alley. "After everything Harry's gone through..."

The twins, unfortunately, weren't paying attention to their surroundings, an action which would have lasting repercussions. Neither of them noticed the man who began walking after them.

"And a kid!" Fred said. "Harry has a kid. If he wasn't loopy half the time, he'd be so happy."

They opened the door to the shop, George heading straight for the counter to man the till, while Fred bolted into the back to make certain their overnight experiments weren't ruined.

A man entered the shop, smiling genially at the twin there. Almost immediately, his mind reached out using Legilimency, looking for anything he could find after hearing the words 'Potter' and 'kid'.

George looked up at the customer. "Good morning, sir!" He said cheerfully, looking straight into the man's eyes. It was only polite, after all. They were curious, though, as they were very dark. "What can this fine establishment do for you today?"

The 'customer' had already finished his search, and knew where to find the Potter brat. "I was looking for something that'd cheer up my daughter. Her pet just died." The man said, sounding a little choked up.

"Oh, I'm sorry." George said sympathetically. "What kind of pet?"

"A Kneazle." The man said, quickly making things up. "I was hoping to find a replacement, but something a little less... energetic."

George led the man to the cage full of pygmy puffs, keeping a little distance, as the man had a slight body odour problem. "Perhaps one of these, sir. They're cute, warm and fluffy, and require little-to-no maintenance."

"I'll take one." The man said. "Just as long as it's not in purple."

Ringing up the sale, George put the pygmy puff into the small travel box they'd invented just for this purpose. The man thanked him before heading out the shop. They didn't see him throw the carry-box into the nearest dust bin, nor did they seem him bolt up the alley to the apparition point.

* * *

Hermione had headed to café for a cup of tea and a good cry, before she headed back to the hotel to report in to her mother what'd happened. She expected a bollocking about it, but she knew she deserved far worse.

Once back at the hotel, Hermione waited patiently for the lift, before riding up to the sixth floor. She fumbled with the card reader lock, before she entered the room. Instantly, her wand flashed to hand as she took in the devastation that had been wrought.

"Mum! Lily!" She called out, rushing straight in. It only took a second to find her mother lying on the floor, and for a moment, thought that she was dead. She knelt down, checking for a pulse, and was pleased to find one. "_Enervate!_"

Emma's eyes shot open and she sat up. "Lily!"

"Where is she, Mum?" Hermione demanded urgently.

"A man... a man came in and took her." Emma said quickly. "He said 'tell Potter it's time he got his deserved reward!'"

"His 'deserved reward'... oh, no!"

"Who was it?"

"I don't know specifically, but if they're after Lily, it must be revenge! It's a Death Eater!" She ruthlessly suppressed the urge to curl into a ball and sob; her daughter needed her. "Did they say anything else?"

"No."

"Shit, shit, shit!" Hermione swore, then pulled her mother to her feet. "Come on... we need to speak to Harry."

* * *

_Ten minutes earlier..._

Harry was sitting quietly on his bed, rocking himself back and forward. Four words kept repeating themselves in his mind; _I have a daughter... I have a daughter..._

A feeling of dread washed through him, followed by a spike of adrenaline. Five years of self-imposed torture washed off him as the dread filled his very soul. He sprang to his feet, summoning his wand to hand, then tucking it into his pocket. Something bad had happened... something _very_ bad.

Ripping the door open, Harry marched down the stairs, stopping by a small bust of a phoenix on the landing. He tapped it with his wand three times, calling for an emergency meeting of every Order of the Phoenix member. It hadn't been used in over four years, but the call was like a red alert; no-one would ignore it. They'd head immediately for Grimmauld Place.

* * *

In the kitchen, every eye looked up at the enchantment they'd willingly had placed on them flared to life. Tonks quickly looked at Remus. "What... oh, shit, don't tell me he's remembered the recall."

"I don't know, Tonks." Lupin was already on his feet. "I'll go and check on him."

By this time, Harry was entering the kitchen. "Into the war room." He commanded firmly.

As Harry was the de facto leader of the remnants of the Order of the Phoenix, they were technically under his command, and headed into what was once the main dining room. It had been converted into a command centre shortly before the end, and had helped with some of the larger missions that'd been undertaken.

Harry made his way to the front door, waiting for the rest of the Order to show up. Member after member arrived, looking at Harry in confusion. Most of them knew about his drinking problems and his obsessive behaviour and, like the Weasleys, did whatever they could to protect him from the outside world.

Most of them wanted answers as to why Harry had called them, but he didn't say anything. He just pointed them in the direction of the war room. Once the last members had arrived, the Weasley twins, Harry was about to shut the door, when another pair of figures ran up to the steps.

"Harry!"

"Inside, Hermione." Harry said. "Come into the war room." He didn't wait for her to respond; instead, he just strode into the war room, and stood at the head of the table.

Bare seconds later, a good number of the Order personnel were glaring at Hermione, the woman who'd driven Harry to drink.

"I'll come straight to the point." Harry said, and it was as if the last five years had never happened. Harry looked strong, calm and completely in control. This was _not_ the weak little boy they'd been protecting for half a decade. This was the man who killed the greatest Dark Lord in ten centuries.

"Approximately forty-seven minutes ago, my daughter was kidnapped from her hotel room." Harry said without preamble. "At this moment in time, she's being held in an Unplottable location, and is physically well, although in some distress."

"Your daughter?" Hestia Jones asked. "When the hell did you get a daughter?"

"And why's that bitch here?" Gabrielle Delacour asked. She'd been inducted shortly before the last war, mainly as a medical assistant for Poppy Pomfrey, and it was well-known that she adored Harry.

"Hermione is here because she is my daughter's mother. And as to where she's been all this time, that is irrelevant at the moment." He turned to face her. "Is there anything else you can mention about the attack?"

"I wasn't there." Hermione admitted. "After I left here, I went for a coffee. When I got back to the hotel, I saw that the room had been ransacked and Mum was lying on the floor."

Harry turned to face Emma Granger. "Mrs. Granger, what can you tell us about your assailants?"

"There were two of them." Emma reported. "One of them was a tall bloke, dark hair, really dark eyes." She grimaced. "And he stank, too."

George cleared his throat. "Er... was he about," He held his hand an inch above his own head. "yay tall, hair combed back?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, shite..." George muttered. "He was in the Triple W this morning, Harry. We... we were talking about Hermione and..." His eyes widened. "Oh, god, it's our fault!"

"Enough." Harry commanded. "You weren't to know. Don't worry about it."

It was a shock to the twins that Harry was essentially saying 'poof... you're forgiven'. Both of them were humbled.

"I didn't see the other man." Emma continued her report. "But I could hear him. He sounded like a Cockney when he spoke."

"Okay. At least two assailants," Harry said, effortlessly getting the conversation back on track, "but knowing Death Eaters like we do, we have to assume more than that. Since Lily's in an Unplottable location, we'll need to find a way to plot it. Any suggestions?"

Remus quickly responded. "If we could get... Lily to contact us in some way, we could triangulate the co-ordinates."

"I can get to Lily." Harry said. "At least, I think I can. That's not the problem."

Hermione's head shot up at Harry's statement. "You can find her?" She whispered.

"I think so... you remember how I defeated Voldemort with 'the Power the Dark Lord knows not'?" Everyone nodded. "Dumbledore had a theory that the power was, in fact, my ability to love. It was how I drove Voldemort out of my head when he tried to possess me in the Department of Mysteries back in '96. I've never met Lily, but I already love her. I think we can use that to locate her."

Hermione was on her feet, wand in hand. "Then let's go."

"Easier said than done." Harry said. "Hermione... I can't do it on my own. Loving her isn't enough. I don't _know_ her. I need something to bridge the gap between me and her." He glanced at Remus. "I know we can do this. Remus, if you don't hear from me in... one hour, your orders are to make sure the Order's safe, and report to the DMLE."

The older man nodded, getting the message loud and clear.

Harry moved around the table, so he was standing directly in front of her. "I... I love you, Hermione. I always have."

Hermione's frown melted from her face. "I... same here, Harry. I love you, too. But-" She was cut off with a squeak as Harry kissed her with everything he had. Every ounce of his passion and love he poured into that one kiss. Hermione quickly responded, feeding her emotions into him. Together, the pair began to vanish slowly.

Emma shot to her feet. "What's going on?"

It was Tonks who answered. "They're apparating... but very slowly. If I had to hazard a guess, they're moving to find Lily... I only hope they'll be safe."

Harry knew that he was apparating, but the kiss with Hermione was far more important to him. This was the conclusion of the last five years of his life. This was what he wanted... well, this, and some answers as to why she'd just left and hadn't said a word. But they could wait.

He could feel the squeezing sensation fade, and leaned back slightly from Hermione. Her lips were puffy and her eyes wide with shock.

"Ah, isn't this sweet?" A voice said mockingly.

Harry span round, his wand aimed directly at the speaker. "Well, Jugson... it's been a long time."

Jugson just smirked at Harry. "We've got your kid, Potter. You might wanna throw down your wand. And you too, missy."

To everyone's shock, Harry let the weapon fall to the ground. Around them, nine 'former' Death Eaters stood, wands in wand and aimed directly at the couple. Hermione had no choice but to drop hers.

"Huh... I was expected the man who defeated the Dark Lord to be braver than that." The older man sneered. "Still... got big things planned for you, Potter. You'll be dead by sunrise."

Harry didn't say anything. He just stared at his captors.

"Pathetic!" Jugson sneered. "I guess the rumours about you losing your mind are true." He gestured to one of his fellows. "Put them in with the little bitch. Might as well let them have their last few hours together before they die."

* * *

After being bustled down a rubbish-strewn corridor, both Harry and Hermione were thrust into a small bedroom. Harry could feel the wards being erected over the door, and decided to leave them alone. He was far more interested in the young occupant of the room.

She was almost three and a half feet tall, and had reddish-brown hair. That made him curious for a moment, before he realised that this was his mother's genes coming through, mixing with Hermione's. The proof that she was definitely his daughter was the eyes. Emerald green orbs, just like the ones he saw every time he looked in a mirror.

Lily looked up, bored out of her mind when she spotted her mother being thrust into the cell with another man. For a moment, she ignored the man and bolted into her mother's arms. She finally allowed herself to sob as she hugged the woman who'd given her life. "Mummy..."

"I'm here, baby." Hermione said, dropping to her knees to hug her daughter closely. Behind her, she could hear the guard scoffing as he walked away.

Harry was stood around, feeling like a spare prick. He didn't know how to deal with a situation like this.

After a moment, Hermione pulled back. "How're you doing, baby?"

"I'm okay, Mummy." Lily replied. "They've all been really mean, but I kept calm, like you told me."

"Good girl." Hermione said approvingly. "Lily, there's someone I want you to meet." She stood up, keeping a firm hold on her daughter's hand. "Lily, this is Harry James Potter."

Lily's eyes stared at the man who'd been brought in with Mummy, and gasped when she recognised the eyes. "Are... are you my daddy?"

Harry gulped, then dropped to his knees. "I... I am. I'm your Daddy, Lily." He was suddenly choked by reddish-brown hair as he was tackled by his daughter. "I..."

Lily sobbed in his arms, just like she had with Hermione. "You're my Daddy..." She whispered. "I have a Daddy..."

Hermione knelt down and pulled the pair of them into a three-way hug. She allowed herself to become lost to the emotions, before she pulled back, dabbing at her eyes. Slowly, she manoeuvred everyone to the bed, before she sat down. "So... what now, Harry?"

He glanced discretely at his watch. "Well, we don't appear to be busy... can we talk?"

Hermione shrugged. "You have questions."

"I do."

"Probably the biggest one on your mind is 'why didn't I tell you?'"

"Yeah."

Hermione sighed. "I... I was planning on coming back after I found my parents, Harry. I really was. But, while there, I found out I was late. _Really_ late. So, I went to see a Medi-Witch. They can tell really early, much faster than Muggle doctors. I discovered I was pregnant."

Nodding, Harry didn't speak. He didn't want to interrupt her while she was imparting the information. During this time, though, Lily hadn't let go of her newly-discovered Daddy.

"At that point, I became quite scared. What would you think?"

"Hermione, I would have-"

"Shh." She interrupted gently. "Harry, you'd been under so many obligations for so many years... I honestly thought that you'd want your freedom. Saddling you with a newborn, just after you'd won... it didn't seem right at all." She grimaced. "Plus, I honestly thought you wouldn't be interested in me like that."

"I love you." He said simply. "I think I always have."

"I know that... _now._" Hermione replied. "But then, I honestly didn't think..." She trailed off.

"What?"

"I didn't think I was worthy of you." Hermione whispered. "You can do better than me..."

"Bollocks!"

"Daddy!"

"Harry!"

"Sorry." Harry hadn't been chastised by a family member before... it was curious, but nice. "I disagree, Hermione. You're the only one who's always stood by me. You've been my strength. I... I fell apart without you. I can't live without you."

Hermione smiled at him as she stared at her daughter's newly discovered limpet tendencies. "I don't think that'll be a problem any more, Harry."

"Good." He pulled Hermione into another three-way hug. "So... Lily..."

His daughter looked up. "Hi, Daddy." She said shyly.

"Aren't you beautiful?"

The little girl blushed prettily. "Thank you, Daddy. You're beautiful, too."

It was Harry's turn to blush, although he tried to blush in a manly way. "Thank you, sweetie. So, tell me about yourself."

"My name's Lily Jane Granger, and I'm four." The girl said quickly. "My favourite colour's green, and I like to read."

"Like mother, like daughter." Harry said fondly, looking at both of his girls. "Hermione, is she..."

"Magical? She is." Hermione said proudly. "Powerful, too. Not a surprise, considering her father. Already had several strong outbursts of accidental magic."

Harry was intrigued. "Such as?"

"Well, she routinely manages to banish broccoli."

"It's horrid!" Lily protested.

"And she gave me a bright pink afro." Hermione said, making Harry snigger like a child. "It wasn't funny, Harry."

"It was, Daddy." Lily whispered conspiratorially. "Mummy looked really silly."

Harry nodded. "I can imagine. Well done, darling."

The little girl beamed at the comments from her father. "Thank you, Daddy."

The three continued to talk, neither of the girls noticing Harry keeping an eye on his watch.

After over an hour, Hermione slumped backwards. Harry noticed. "What's wrong, honey?" He asked, not picking up on Hermione's momentary joy at the pet name.

"It's over, Harry." She said tiredly.

"It's not, Hermione. It's not over 'til the Fat Lady sings... and you've heard how bad she is. I won't let her sing, which means it ain't over yet."

"We're trapped." Hermione sighed. "I just... I never thought it'd end like this."

"Come on, Hermione..." He glanced around the cell. "We've been in worse places. Look, there's even sheets on the bed."

"Well... it's nice for a prison cell, Harry, but I don't fancy our chances." Hermione said, hugging her daughter closer.

Harry glanced down at his watch, a tiny smirk on his face. "What makes you say that, Hermione?"

"We're in the middle of an Unplottable location, we're badly outnumbered, we're unarmed, and we have no support. We're not ready, we're on our own, and we're just playing for time." She smashed her hand against her palm. "And it's running out!"

"In other words; 'the odds are against us and the situation is grim'?" Harry asked, his smirk growing infinitesimally larger.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You could say that."

"Hermione, you, of all people, know that I don't believe in the no-win scenario." He shuffled with the back of his trousers for a moment, before he pulled out a cellphone.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "You devious little man, you..."

Flicking it open, Harry jabbed a speed-dial, before jabbing another button, putting the call on speakerphone. "Potter to Lupin. It's two hours, are you ready?"

"Right on schedule, sir." Came Remus' voice. "Give us your co-ordinates, and we'll be right there."

"All right!" Harry stood up, his smirk now at full strength. "I don't like to lose." He said to Hermione.

* * *

Jugson snorted to himself as he finished preparing the ritual circle. His plan was simple; use the three hostages in a very Dark ritual in order to boost his abilities, and those of his fellow Death Eaters. Of the nine, he was the most senior of the Death Eaters left, as most of the others had been soundly defeated and imprisoned at the end of the last war. This would serve two purposes; 1, revenge against Potter and his whore for defeating the Dark Lord and 2; would make it possible for him to win a new war.

They only had to wait until the moon rose, when the magicks would be at their most powerful, and he'd get everything he dreamed of. After all, nothing could go wrong. Potter and the whore were disarmed, and they had the brat to threaten if they got any ideas. The hideout they'd chosen was a former Muggle house, in a perfectly normal neighbourhood, although, after they'd cast their enchantments on it, it was completely Unplottable, which made it safe for them. There was no way anyone could find it to attack.

Of course, it's widely accepted you should never challenge fate like that. The bitch always had a way of proving people wrong. Which, naturally, happened.

The house shook for a moment, before silence again filled the room. Jugson glanced around, wondering what had just happened. "Travers... check the prisoners." He commanded. "McCay, Beckett, check the perimeter."

As Travers was reaching the door, he wheezed before being blasted backwards, as the door exploded inwards. Each of the Death Eaters had their wands in hand as a pair of figures stepped into the room, hands extended. Less than a second later, a pair of wands flung themselves of the table in the centre of the room, landing neatly in the outstretched hands.

"Did you miss me?" Harry asked mockingly.

"You're outnumbered, Potter!" Jugson snapped. "There's eight of us, and only two of you!"

Harry sniffed disdainfully. "Yeah, so go and get another ten or twelve guys, and it'll be a fair fight." The comment made Hermione snort and giggle slightly, before she sobered up.

"You can't win, Potter! Not alone!"

"He's not alone." Hermione replied, aiming her wand at the nearest Death Eater.

"A Mudblood? What use is a Mudblood?"

"You'll just have to wait and find out." Hermione said mockingly.

"And besides, they're not alone." Another voice called out. "A member of the Order of the Phoenix never stands alone."

"The Order?" Jugson whispered, real fear in his voice. Under the leadership of Potter, the Order had gone from being a slightly bumbling information-gathering unit into a hardcore combat squad.

Around the edges of the room, multiple figures began to remove disillusionment charms on themselves. Weasleys, Delacours, Lupins and almost a dozen other figures, all with wands aimed, the ends already lit up with pre-spell discharge.

"Please, Jugson," Harry said seriously, "start fighting." He growled lightly. "Threaten my family again. I _beg_ of you!"

Jugson, although not tremendously bright, was not an imbecile. He sighed, and gestured to the rest of his men to drop their wands. They couldn't win against these opponents.

"Bastard." Harry snarled as he stalked forward, his fist smashing into Jugson's jaw with the force of a sledgehammer.

"Harry." Hermione said, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

Ron glared heavily at Hermione. "Are you serious?"

Hermione glared back. "He's a father, _Ronald_. It's not a bad thing to learn to moderate his language."

For a moment, the two exchanged a glare, before Ron conceded and looked away.

"What do we do with them?" George asked, sneering at the fallen leader.

"Oh, I have a marvellous idea." Harry said, his face turning into a mischievous grin...

_

* * *

_

Order Headquarters, #12 Grimmauld Place, London  
_Thursday, 13__th__ June, 2002_

Harry poured the last of the FireWhiskey down the sink, his daughter helping him as she stood on a stool. "Is that all of them, sweetie?" He asked.

"All gone, Daddy." Lily reported solemnly. "Why did we have to pour them away?"

"Temptation." Was Harry's reply, but it wasn't something that a normal four year old would be able to comprehend. "Still, all done now. Where's Mummy?"

"She said she was getting a newspaper." Lily said as she jumped off the stool into Harry's arms. Immediately, they shared a snuggle-hug, as was Lily's way over the last day. "Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Will you be coming home with us?" She asked, after a moment of nibbling on her bottom lip adoringly.

"Back to Australia?" Harry asked. He and Hermione hadn't really spoken about their plans... hell, they hadn't really spoken at all. When they'd arrive at Grimmauld the previous evening, they'd put Lily to bed, shared a chaste kiss and headed off to their own bedrooms. They had a lot of talking to do, but at the moment, Harry's insistent daughter wanted answers. "I don't know what's going to happen, sweetie."

Lily pouted adorably. "Please, Daddy! You can't not come home."

"We need to talk about it, Lily." Hermione said from the doorway, a newspaper in hand. "Why don't you go and find Grandma? She's upstairs."

With a huff, Lily left the kitchen, pouting at Hermione as she stomped past. Hermione entered the kitchen and sat at the table. "So..."

Harry smiled at her. "Well, where do we begin, Hermione?"

She blinked. "I don't know, Harry."

"Would you like me to start?"

"Please."

"I still love you, Hermione." He said simply. "I never stopped loving you. It was killing me when you weren't around. I can't let things go back to the way they were."

Hermione smiled warmly. "I love you too, Harry. And I never stopped, either. It was just... like I said, I didn't think I was good enough for you."

"And you know that's rubbish."

Sighing, Hermione nodded. "Well... yes. You've made your point, Harry. But you have to remember... back at Hogwarts, I wasn't exactly a pin-up, was I?"

"I always-"

"Stop, Harry." Hermione interrupted gently. "I just wasn't the sort of girl that people wanted. And I accepted that. It didn't really bother me. But, what sorta bothered me was how deeply I wanted you. That last night..." She blushed slightly. "That night before I left... you have no idea how good it felt, do you?"

Harry nodded, grinning like a monkey.

"You were teenage and male and having sex." Hermione scolded gently. "But for me... we didn't just shag, Harry. It was..."

"Brilliant. Mind-blowing. Wonderful..."

"All that and more." Hermione said wistfully. "But... Harry, how many girls loved you? Cho, Ginny, Luna... so many more. They all wanted a piece of you, and they're all _way_ better-looking than me. What chance would I have had against any of them?"

"Hermione, you know that I couldn't be with them. None of them knew _me_. They just knew the legend. Even Ginny was still hung up on the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. You're the only one who truly knew Harry Potter."

"And I know that now, Harry... But five years ago, I honestly believed that you'd want your freedom. At the time, I honestly thought that you'd hate me for saddling you with a kid you'd never wanted. And that thought _terrified_ me."

"Well... just proves that even the formidable Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her generation, can be a little dumb sometimes."

"A little." Hermione allowed.

"I can't let you leave again, Hermione." Harry said, his tone becoming instantly serious. "I _won't_ let you leave me."

"I don't want to leave you, Harry." Hermione said.

"Good." Harry cleared his throat and discretely reached into his pocket. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"If I asked you to marry me, would you?"

Silence. Hermione stared at Harry, her mouth open in shock. "H-Harry?"

"Would you?"

"Well... I... it's..."

"Please?"

Hermione sobered up. "Stop being pathetic, Harry."

He grinned. "Sorry. So, would you?"

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "I mean... five years is a long time, Harry."

"And the important things haven't changed, Hermione. I still love you."

"I... I'd like to marry you, Harry." Hermione said after a _long_ moment. "But..."

"'But'?"

"But... what about everyone else?"

"Well, I don't want to marry them."

"You know what I mean."

"I do. And I don't care. I love you, Hermione, and I want to marry you." His smile turned into a salacious grin. "And we still need to discuss your punishment for leaving me behind."

Instantly, Hermione sobered up. "P-Punishment?"

"Yes. Punishment."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, and saw the twinkle in his eyes. "What punishment?"

"Ooh... at least one month's solitary confinement with me, doing whatever I wanted."

Hermione blinked. "How is that punishment?"

"Because it's doubtful you'd be able to walk afterwards." Harry's twinkle was brighter than anything Dumbledore could have ever pulled off. "I also wouldn't mind making a brother or a sister to Lily."

"Horny beast." Hermione grunted.

"Hey, five years is a _long_ time."

Hermione was about to comment... when she realised that five years _was_ a long time... and she had the same backlog he did. "Yes, I'll marry you. And yes, we can start working on another child."

"And the punishment?"

With her own, slightly tamer, grin, Hermione asked, "Just what did you have in mind?"

"Well, a screaming multiple orgasm will start... then you can give me a massage before another screaming multiple orgasm."

Hermione shivered slightly. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"You'd better take me to bed before I rape you on this table."

Harry grinned. "I think I prefer the idea of the table..."


	9. Mr Seeker

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

* * *

"Harry birthday to me..." Hermione slurred, singing in an off-key manor. "Harry birthday to me... Harry birthday dear... me... Harry birthday-"

"To you." Harry said, adjusting his grip on his best friend. Although he wasn't sober by any stretch of the imagination, he wasn't nearly drunk enough to be a danger to himself, unlike a certain bushy-haired girl of his acquaintance... who'd been drooling on him in the taxi home. "Hermione?"

"Mmm?" The brunette grunted.

"Can you stand up?" Harry asked, needing to reach into his pocket for his keys, but not able to do so with a drunk girl in his arms.

"No." Hermione said firmly, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him. "You're so pretty..."

"Thank you." Harry replied, barely able to avoid rolling his eyes. Hermione was a very... fun drunk. She could out-weird Luna on her best days, a fact Harry found endlessly amusing. "Do you feel sick?"

"Feel nothing but good..." Hermione near-sang.

"Good." Harry placed her legs firmly on the ground, before he grabbed an arm, flung it over his shoulder and hefted her up in a fireman's carry. With one arm now free, he could grab his keys and let them into the house. With his hand halfway to the lock, he froze. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you just pinch my bum?"

There was silence for a moment. "No, itsh still there." Hermione replied.

"Good." Harry said, shaking his head. "Get you up to bed, I think. A long sleep will do you the world of good."

"Mmkay."

Finally getting the door open, Harry stepped inside, absently closing the door with his foot. His wand appeared in hand, flicking in a silent summoning charm to the kitchen. A hangover cure flew out of one of the cupboards, landing nearly in Harry's outstretched hand.

Slowly, he climbed the stairs with his inebriated cargo, stopping on the second floor. He opened Hermione's bedroom door, wincing as the utter mess of the room overcame him.

Back in school, Hermione's overwhelming organisation had driven him mad. Her homework was always done on time, her notes neat, tidy and placed in appropriate folders. The first time he'd been to her house, back in the summer after fifth year, he'd been shocked by how _messy_ her bedroom was. Puddles of abandoned underwear, random piles of girly magazines and the kicker; posters of boy bands sloppily stuck to the wall.

Harry didn't consider himself a neatness freak, unlike some he could name (cough Petunia cough), but the warzone that was Hermione's bedroom always shocked him. He made his way across the minefield of dirty knickers, stepping over the dirty sock barricade, before he gently laid Hermione on her bed. He took off her shoes and socks, adding to the barricade, before he pulled the covers over her. He grinned as she let out a high-pitched snore.

With a soft chuckle, he placed the hangover cure on her bedside table, knowing that she'd need it in the morning. "Night, Hermione."

As he was about to navigate the debris, the sound of a throat being cleared grabbed his attention. His wand flashing back to hand, he glanced around the room. "Who's there?" He demanded.

"That would be me." A polite, cultured voice called from the chest of drawers. "Is that you, Mister Potter?"

"It is." Harry confirmed warily. "Who are you?"

"Top drawer." The voice shouted back.

Keeping his guard up, Harry stepped over Hermione's abandoned jeans pile, taking a firm hold of the handle, before yanking the drawer open. "Where are you?"

"Underneath the underwear." The voice replied politely.

Gingerly, Harry moved the piles of underwear to one side (_Hermione wears these? Huh... never figured her for a crotchless panties girl..._) spotting a bright green... _Oh, god..._

"Ah, Mister Potter." The vibrator said. "Would you mind turning me over?"

With a slightly trembling hand, Harry took hold of the base of the toy, rolling it over to spot a pair of emerald green eyes. "Hello, there."

"Er... hi?"

"Could I have a word?" The toy asked.

Harry blinked. "Was I drinking absinth and no-one told me?" He asked casually. "I've heard that hallucinations-"

"I'm not a hallucination." The toy interrupted politely. "My name is Mr. Seeker, and I'd like to have a chat with you, Mr. Potter."

"Okay..." Harry just stared.

"Well, wouldn't it be more appropriate for us to have this conversation in a more... comfortable setting?" Mr. Seeker asked, before glancing from side to side. "You may wish, however, to carry me by the base."

Harry flinched slightly as he picked up the toy by the tips of his fingers. "Er... downstairs?"

"That works for me."

* * *

Once in the living room, Harry set the toy on the coffee table, making sure the two little eyes were facing him. He couldn't help himself. "So... what are you?"

Even though the toy had no mouth (hell, no face), it somehow managed to look vaguely disappointed at Harry. "I've heard many things about your ignorance, Mr. Potter, but surely you're not _that_ removed from human sexual behaviour?"

"Well... you're a d-dildo."

"So crude." Mr. Seeker said with a sniff. "I'll have you know that I am a fully-functional phallic-replacement device."

"You're a dildo." Harry repeated, a small smile beginning to form on his face. "Hermione has a dildo?"

"Clearly." Mr. Seeker replied. "It is about the Mistress that I wish to speak to you."

"How can you talk?" Harry asked. "I mean... I thought dildos were just supposed to... well, vibrate and stuff."

Mr. Seeker managed to roll his eyes, without any movement. "'Dildos', as you so crudely put it, do nothing of the sort. Vibrators vibrate. 'Dildos' are simply inanimate objects. I, however, am neither of those things. As I stated earlier, I am a fully-functional phallic-replacement device."

"But how do you speak?" Harry asked.

"That would be part of the 'fully-functional' aspect." Mr. Seeker said dryly. "Some people like to hear commentary and other verbal encouragement during their activities, Mr. Potter."

"You do dirty talk?" He couldn't help it; Harry burst out laughing. "Hermione has a dirty-talking vibrator!"

After almost a minute, Mr. Seeker cleared his throat. "Have you quite finished?"

"Not yet!" Harry gasped as he clutched his sides. "Hermione... talking dildo..."

With infinite patience, Mr. Seeker waited for his human conversation partner to stop laughing. This patience was coupled with the fact that the only movement it could make was to wriggle.

Eventually, Harry managed to get his raucous laughter under control. "Sorry..." He said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "God, you're entertaining!"

"I've been told that many times." Mr. Seeker said.

Harry stared at the little toy with newfound interest. "So, how long has Hermione had you?"

"Approximately four years, Mr. Potter. I was a fifteenth birthday present to herself."

"She's had you since she was fifteen?" Harry repeated. "Wow... explains why she calmed down a bit."

"Indeed." Mr. Seeker replied. "But, this is not what I was planning to speak to you about."

"Where did she get you?" Harry asked, not yet ready for a serious discussion with a dildo. "I mean... I've never seen anything like you."

Mr. Seeker sighed. "I am available from most good sexual aid stores, Mr. Potter. The Mistress entered the store, and I was the most compatible object."

"'Compatible'?" Harry asked. "In what way?"

Another sigh. "As each of us are made, we are enchanted. We each have a different magical signature. Mine was the most compatible with the Mistress."

"'The wand chooses the wizard'!" Harry gasped, falling off the couch as he began laughing again. Somehow, though, he knew this wasn't what old Ollivander had in mind when he'd told Harry that all those years ago. The phrase kept bouncing around his mind as he glanced at the phallus, making him keep laughing. He just couldn't help himself.

It took almost ten minutes for the slightly inebriated Harry to gather his wits and sit down on the couch. All the time, Mr. Seeker just sat there, waiting.

"Okay..." Harry said with a gasp, again wiping the tears away. "Let's just... er... well, let's not say that again, shall we?"

"Entirely my pleasure." Mr. Seeker said, sounding slightly grumpy. "Now, I would like to speak about the Mistress."

"Yes." Harry said, trying (and failing) to look serious. "What about Hermione?"

"Are you aware that Mistress is completely, hopelessly in love with you, Mr. Potter?"

"No." Harry said, sounding slightly confused. "She never said anything."

"Who is her favourite seeker?" Mr. Seeker asked. "I was named after you, my good chap. Green eyes, 'Mr. Seeker' as my name... it doesn't take a genius to work it out."

"But..."

"Whenever I make her... complete, she calls out your name, Mr. Potter. I would take it personally, but it's not in my matrix. I also have the ability to mimic certain voices. Yours is the only other voice I have."

"You talk dirty to Hermione... in my voice?" Harry asked, looking faintly revolted.

"I do." Mr. Seeker admitted. "And may I say that your grasp of English is... tenuous, at best?"

"No, you can't say that." Harry said. "And I think that's... wait a minute... why the hell am I arguing with a dildo?"

"It seems you've found your intellectual equal." Mr. Seeker replied dryly. "However, that is not the point of this conversation. Mistress loves you, and as my primary function is to give her pleasure, I don't believe it's outside the realm of my programming to inform you of this."

"So... you want me to make a move on Hermione?" Harry asked. "Won't that put you out of work?"

"I hope so." Mr. Seeker replied. "As I stated, my primary function is to give her pleasure. You would be able to give her more pleasure than I can."

"Er... okay..."

Harry glanced up as he heard a pair of feet slapping the laminate floor outside the living room. Slowly, the door opened, and a barely conscious Hermione appeared. Her bleary eyes glanced around the room, before she spotted Mr. Seeker sitting on the coffee table. "There you are." She slurred, staggering into the living room. "What're you doing down here?"

"I was having a chat." Mr. Seeker answered politely.

"Well, it's bed time." Hermione said as she plucked the toy off the table. "I hope you're fully charged."

"I'm always ready to fulfil my duties, Mistress." Mr. Seeker said proudly, before winking at Harry. "Good night, Mr. Potter."

"Probably not as good as yours." Harry replied with a chuckle. "Night."

Hermione staggered out of the room, cooing to the green phallus. Harry leaned back on the couch, began counting and hoped that he'd be able to contain the side-splitting laugh that was bubbling under the surface.

11 seconds later, Hermione's head reappeared in the doorway, her barely-open eyes glancing at the couch. She spotted Harry, blinked, shrugged and left the room.

"Oh, I can't wait until the morning!" Harry said as he hauled his tired body off the couch.

* * *

Hermione woke up with a muffled scream. Her hand automatically went to her crotch, where she took hold of Mr. Seeker and removed him from his unofficial home.

"Oh, god..." She muttered as she moved. The bed was _drenched_. She'd had the thing in overnight and sweated buckets.

"Good morning, Mistress." Mr. Seeker said tiredly.

"Morning..." Hermione said quietly.

"There is a hangover potion on your bedside table."

Glancing over, Hermione spotted the vial of pink gunk, hastily swallowing to prevent the urge to regurgitate. Knowing that it was better than the alternative, she dropped Mr. Seeker onto the duvet, and grabbed the vial. Cataclysmic doom washed over her for a moment, before the headache and sore stomach went away. She was still badly dehydrated, though.

"Pleasant evening?" Mr. Seeker asked, with a barely concealed yawn.

"I think so..." Hermione said uncertainly. "What about you?"

"Oh, I had a _marvellous_ time." Mr. Seeker replied, and Hermione could hear the grin in his voice, making her smile faintly. "You're so comfortable, Mistress."

Predictably, Hermione blushed, as she did every time her toy complimented her. "T-Thank you."

"Oh, it was my pleasure."

With a chuckle, Hermione plucked the toy off the duvet. "You need a wash." She said quietly. "I don't think you were meant to be used overnight." She stood up, feeling a little light-headed for a moment, before she started for her en-suite. "Hang on a minute..."

"Mistress?"

"Were you downstairs last night?"

"I was."

"Why?"

"I wanted a chat with Mr. Potter."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "You... you had a chat... with Harry?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"There were things we needed to discuss." The toy said airily as Hermione entered the bathroom. She headed to the sink, turning on the tap and placing the toy under the running water. "Cold! Cold!"

"Sorry." Hermione said, switching the taps and beginning to clean Mr. Seeker.

"Oh, that feels _so good_..." The toy moaned in Harry's voice.

"Stop it..." Hermione scolded the toy lightly, but began to... adjust her grip slightly. She couldn't help it. "Does that feel nice?" She cooed.

"God, Hermione..." Harry's voice again came from the toy. "You've got great hands..."

A knock on her bedroom door made Hermione drop the toy in panic.

"Hermione, you awake yet?"

Blushing brightly, Hermione grabbed her dressing gown from the hook on the wall, and opened the door a crack. "Harry?"

"Morning, Hermione." Harry said. "You up for some breakfast?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"I was so close!" A voice shouted from the bathroom, making Hermione's blush escalate to a full body flush.

Harry chuckled. "I'll leave you two alone, then." The door slammed in his face as Hermione shot off.

* * *

An hour later, after Hermione had showered, dressed, brushed her teeth and drank a small lake's worth of water straight from the tap, she headed down to the kitchen, spotting Harry sitting at the table, a cup of coffee and the _Prophet_ in hand. "Morning." He said absently.

Still blushing, Hermione sat down at the table, pouring herself a coffee. "Er..."

"Your toy's quite a character." Harry said, not looking up from the paper. "Very polite, though."

"Harry..." She groaned, just _knowing_ he was gonna tease her about it.

"Hmm?" He looked up, a tiny smirk on his face.

"Bastard." Hermione groused. "It's not my fault he shouted you. He knows better than that."

"He's fascinating. Told me some quite... interesting things."

"O-Oh?"

"Yeah... apparently, you named him after me." Harry put the paper on the table. "According to the little guy, you love me."

"Well..." Hermione took a hasty slurp of her coffee. "I... er..."

"Hermione?"

She sighed. "Well... yes, I do. So what, Harry?"

"So why didn't you tell me?"

"You never seemed interested!" Hermione said. "You had all those girls throwing themselves at you at school!"

"I know." Harry replied casually. "They were all fan-girls, Hermione. You know that. That's why I didn't go out with any of them. None of them were interested in me."

Hermione looked up, her eyes twinkling. "I'm interested in you." She said simply.

"I know that now." Harry replied. "But... Hermione..."

"You don't see me as a sister, do you?" She asked, hoping like hell he didn't.

"I don't know." He replied. "Hermione... for eight years, we've been very close... I don't know."

She stood up, moved round to his spot, and casually reached for his trousers. Harry froze, which actually did her a favour as she unzipped his fly, reached in and took hold of what she found. "Mine now." She said softly.

"Er... Hermione?" He winced as she began tugging, fortunately for Harry, _very_ gently. "What're you doing?"

"Taste test." Hermione said as she straightened up her arm. "Come on, Harry. We're going to go to my bedroom and I'm going to molest you."

Harry stood up, mostly in confusion, but also in self-protection of his most valued possession. "Why?"

"Because I love you." She replied, using her other hand to grab his waist band and begin leading him out of the kitchen. "And I want to."

Obediently, Harry followed her out of the kitchen, up the stairs (which made him _very_ nervous considering where his penis was) and into Hermione's room.

"I'm still here!" A voice shouted from the bathroom.

"Hermione..." Harry groaned, not wanting to deal with the phallic-replacement.

"Hang on." Hermione said, leaning up to kiss him as she released the real Mr. Seeker. She shot off into the bathroom, coming back with the toy. As it passed, the eyes glanced down.

"Oh, good show!" Mr. Seeker praised. "Oh, you're bigger than me, old chap. Enjoy your-" The toy was silenced as Hermione wrapped it in a pair of her knickers and shoved it into the drawer.

"Hermione... I'm not comfortable." Harry said as he watched her shut the drawer.

"Well..." Hermione tugged off her shirt, revealing that she hadn't bothered with a bra when dressing that morning. "Let's see if we can relax you a little, no?"

Harry's last coherent thought of the day vanished as Hermione dropped to her knees in front of him.

"Hello Mr. Real Seeker..." She cooed and she leaned forward...


	10. Oh, Shite

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

**Author's Note: **Inspired by and dedicated to Old-Crow. During a review of "Missing; presumed... Missing", Old-Crow suggested that Ron be dropped in shit. So, I pondered... for about ten seconds. Then this came to me:

* * *

The plan seemed to be working. At least, that's what Ron Weasley thought as he watched Hermione run out of the common room after looking at him and Lavender engaged in some heavy petting on the couch. While he was enjoying the blonde's attention, he knew she wasn't the one he really wanted. Instead, he wanted to tap Hermione's virginity and take her as his own. While Lavender was hot, Hermione was cute _and_ brainy, and would make sure he passed his NEWT exams next year.

As she stomped out of the common room, he smiled into Lavender's mouth as he carried on kissing her.

* * *

Harry watched as Hermione bolted out of the common room, and rolled his eyes. _Once again_, Ron was being an arse. He excused himself from speaking to Sloper and headed out after Hermione.

_He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. She was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair. Harry could not help admiring her spell-work at a time like this._

_"Oh, hello, Harry." she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."_

_"Yeah... they're... er... really good..." said Harry._

_He had no idea what to say to her. He was just wondering whether there was any chance that she had not noticed Ron, that she had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when she said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."_

_"Er... does he?" said Harry._

_"Don't pretend you didn't see him." said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was he?"_

Harry shook his head. "No... no, he wasn't. However, I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Why does this bother you so much?"

"You know the answer to that, Harry."

"Remind me."

"It's because... well, it's not fair on Lavender, for starters. Second, it's bloody pitiful."

"Language, Hermione."

"Don't start." She said, sending the birds back to the ether she'd created them from. "It just... it gets on my nerves when people play stupid games like this. When they're trying to do it to _me_..."

Harry stepped forward, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Hermione... ignore him. He's being an arse. _You_ know he's being an arse, and _I_ know he's being an arse. Lavender's a big girl. She'll figure it out soon enough."

Hermione huffed for a moment before relaxing into Harry's chest. "I just wish there was a way to straighten him out."

"Yeah..." Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Let's just leave him be, Hermione. He's dropping himself into the shit each time he..." He trailed off as Hermione's head popped up, her eyes bright with an idea. "Okay... _that_ look worries me, sweetie."

"Harry... you've just given me a marvellous idea."

"I know I'm gonna regret asking this... but what is this marvellous idea?"

"Oh... I'll let it be a surprise." She leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss on Harry's lips. "Quick question; when's the next Quidditch game?"

"Week on Saturday." Harry supplied automatically, before his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Trust me, Harry..." Hermione said, an evil smirk settling onto her face. "I have a plan. Come on." She took his hand and dragged him out of the classroom.

* * *

The day of the Quidditch match dawned bright and early. Thanks to Harry's captaincy, he'd had them training hard, but not nearly as manically as Oliver Wood had been training them. They were primed, ready and looking forward to a good, solid match.

Harry, however, was nervous. He had no idea what Hermione had planned to deal with Ron, and that scared him. Like Ron had said all the way back in first year: 'she's scary... brilliant, but scary'. As she'd grown up, she was even more brilliant, and correspondingly more scary. However, he still had a match to play and win, and that was what he focussed on.

Hermione, however, had spent all her time when not with Harry preparing for her revenge. It was relatively easy, from a logistics point of view, but there was still a lot to do. Dobby, after a suitable bribe (which was subtly put back in her moneybag when he found out what she wanted his help for), had been a god send, making all the preparations and preparing a series of flyers to be posted on every seat in the Quidditch stadium. All in all, everything was prepared. She only needed to wait until the match was over, and then it would be done.

As the students and staff began filing into the stadium, they each picked up the flyer from their chairs, quickly reading through, then looking round the stadium for Hermione. She made eye contact with a good number of them, especially the witches, who nodded at her. They'd help.

The Gryffindor team flew out of the tunnel, Captain Harry Potter leading them out. They flew a lap around the field before heading to the south end, Ron flying up to the hoops to begin guarding them. The chasers spread out, ready to begin their plays as soon as Hufflepuff took the field.

A moment later, clad in their yellow and black robes, the Hufflepuff team soared out, again taking a lap around the field as they moved into position.

Hermione watched with a detached air as the Gryffindors completely dominated the 'Puffs. Ever since Cedric had left the team three years ago, they'd been far less effective, and Harry's good work drilling the team had made sure they were more than a match. The score quickly racked up, a single shot conceded by Ron being the only goal Hufflepuff could gain, while Gryffindor were rapidly approaching the 200 mark.

She began cheering as she watched Harry begin an insanely fast dive, clearly seeing the snitch and pursuing. The Hufflepuff seeker, some nameless third year, didn't have a chance of catching up to Harry's Firebolt, and moments later, Gryffindor had won the game, a respectable 340-10.

Hermione daintily stood up, placed her wand against her throat and whispered 'Sonorous'. "Now, Dobby!"

On the field, the tiny house elf popped in, making sure of his aim towards the goal before he clicked his fingers once and popped out again.

* * *

Ron was about to fly down from the hoops when he noticed he was now in the shade. He glanced up and blanched. Bare inches above him was a cloud. A brown cloud. A brown, _smelly_ cloud. He wasn't able to make any more deductions before the brown cloud dropped onto him, sending him and his broom tumbling to the ground.

* * *

Hermione pumped her fist into the air as Ron was buried, literally, under a ton of shit. When Dobby had popped away from the field, he'd instantly appeared at Hermione's side.

"Dobby?"

"Yes, Mistress?"

"I have but one question."

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Where the hell did you get it all?"

Dobby looked up at Hermione shyly. "Forbidden Forest, Mistress. Dobby and the other elves went through whole thing, collecting every pile wes found. Centaur, werewolf, Acromantula... every spot collected, Miss. Did Dobby do good?"

Hermione beamed at the little elf. "Outstanding, Dobby! Truly outstanding!" She knelt down, giving the little elf a kiss on his wrinkled forehead, making Dobby pass out, before standing up. She placed her wand back to her throat.

"Students and staff of Hogwarts! If you've read the flyers I had left on your chairs, you'll know what I'm asking. Make ready!"

Six hundred staff and students pulled out their wands, aiming at the stinky mass on the field, where a figure could be seen trying to pull themselves free of the disgusting mess.

"Fire!"

Six hundred wands fired _Aguamenti _charms, the freezing cold water blasting Ron back. Dobby, who was only now waking up, quickly banished the mass of excrement, sending it back into the forest.

* * *

Harry was watching this display from on high. He shook his head as Ron nearly drowned in poo, but flew down to his girlfriend. "Hermione?" He asked softly.

"Yes?" Hermione didn't realise that the _sonorous_ charm was still in place.

"Is there a reason you just tried to drown Ron?"

"You know why, Harry. You were the one who overheard him bragging to Seamus and Dean about how he was using Lavender to make me jealous, and he'd dump her when I begged him."

Harry nodded. "You almost wrecked the Quidditch pitch."

"Sorry." Hermione Looked at the crowd, spotting that each and every one of them was staring at them. "Okay, ladies and gents, I think the show's over. Ron, come near me again and this'll seem like a walk in the park."

Another voice shouted out. "And we're _finished!_" Lavender was glaring at the field, making the staggering Ron step backwards in fright.

Harry took a chance and pulled Hermione onto his broom, putting the snitch into her hand as he flew her on a victory lap around the pitch.

As they flew past the teachers' stand, a voice stopped them. "Potter! Granger!"

Hermione managed to bury her scowl. "Professor Snape?"

The greasy potions master looked like the shit from the field had been dropped into his mouth as he spoke his next words. "Fifty points... to... Gryffindor."

"Thank you, sir!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed together, before they carried on with their victory lap.

* * *

Ron had managed to get back on his feet, rescuing his broom from the sodden field. He saw his... well, _ex_ best friends, he supposed, flying away, Hermione perched awkwardly on Harry's broom as she clutched the snitch. Harry's arm around her waist was definitely a practised move, he noticed, and he knew that he'd lost. With a wince, he looked up at Lavender, seeing the blonde looking furiously at him. He'd lost there, too.

With a sigh, he began the long, lonely trudge towards a warm shower and the end of the best friendship he'd ever had.

* * *

Harry slowed the broom so Hermione could watch Ron trudge away in defeat. "You enjoyed that far too much." He said softly.

Hermione just snorted. "I detest the idea of being used, Harry, just as much as you do."

"Perhaps..." Harry admitted. "But, I don't think I'd have dropped a ton of shit on him, Hermione."

"Well... never annoy me, Harry."

"Noted."

"Now, I want to get my feet back on solid ground."

"In a few minutes, Hermione." Harry said, starting the broom up again. "We should take another lap. It's definitely a double victory; Gryffindor for Quidditch, and the definite end to the Granger-Weasley rivalry."

"Fine." Hermione groused good-naturedly. "Just don't go... Harry!"

Harry was diving towards the ground, enjoying the pleasurable squeal Hermione made as they got closer.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione shouted.

Even though he wasn't the best student in the school, Harry wasn't an idiot, and knew he was in trouble. "Oh, shit..."

* * *

Oc-OC-Oc

The old scribe dismounted his steel horse, glancing around the decidedly-seedy area his contact had requested. It was only a shame that he wasn't allowed to carry weapons in this ficverse; some of the people looked more than a little dodgy.

"Crow?" A voice croaked from the darkened entryway of a building.

Bravely, Crow nodded as he took a step forward, leaving the security of his steel horse.

"Your report, sir." The voice near-growled. "It's been an honour and a privilege writing for you."

Taking the report, Crow glanced through, before looking up. The source of the voice had gone, leaving a small patch of seelvor fluid on the ground. There was a small note floating on top. _Food for your steel horse. Godspeed and thank you for your long, hard work._


	11. Run

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

* * *

Run away, little girl. Run for your life.

Those words run through my brain, as they have for so very long. They're looking for me. They've been looking for me for a long time. I have no doubt they will keep looking for me until I am found. I am unfortunate in many ways; my foes are relentless, unforgiving and endlessly patient.

I am also cursed by being a witch. With good health, I can expect an almost fifteen decade life-span. I'm only 22. I've been running for 467 days. The prospect of another 46,511 days of running away scares the life out of me.

I can't blame them, though. I know why they pursue me. Under different circumstances, I would be one of the hunters, not the hunted. I have committed a crime that so boggles the mind, it cannot be forgiven. A crime so heinous, I should be put to death for it.

I ran. I ran away like a coward the instant it happened. I didn't explain why to anyone. What the hell would I be able to say? "Sorry"? Somehow, that just wouldn't cut it.

It's saddening to know that I will never be able to go home. I had such a nice life. A beautiful house, a good job and the powerful love of a great man. I was a hero of the Blood War, and my name was known to almost everyone.

Then I ruined it. I committed my vile act, and everything went to hell in a handbasket. I lost my life that day. Sadly, I'm still alive. Alive to suffer for my misdeed. My soul is damned for eternity for my crime, but I can't bring myself to end my life. I must suffer. Through a full, empty and painful life, and then for the rest of time. I deserve no less.

I've been in Argentina for the last six days. I've not been able to spend more than two weeks in any one place. My pursuers are so good, they can track me down, usually within ten days, regardless of how I hide. I've tried everything; glamour charms, false passports, Muggle transport, even leaving my wand in another country at one point. They still track me down.

Given who their leader is, it's not surprising. Harry James Potter, the 'Chosen One', the 'Boy-Who-Lived', managed to utterly destroy the most powerful Dark Lord in the last ten centuries. He effectively wiped out every Dark magic user in Europe within twelve months of his graduation from the Auror Academy. There isn't a prison in this hemisphere that doesn't have at least half of it's inmates because of him.

He is pursuing me. I cannot face him. His powers are so far above mine, it's not even funny. He is driven by a single-minded determination to find me. After what I did... I'm not surprised.

There is one good thing about my crime, if anything from the vile action could be considered good; the entire magical world, and I'm not referring to the parochial "Wizarding World" that Britain considers itself, but every magical community on Earth has joined forces. I've actually heard people say that my crime has generated a 'Golden Age of International Co-operation'. Every Ministry of Magic has signed a new treaty, granting Aurors authorisation to operate in their countries, provided that all parties are notified. Extradition treaties have become a thing of the past. The lessons of Voldemort and people running to other countries has been learned well.

Of course, this has buggered me up royally. There is nowhere I can run to without local law enforcement tracking me down, and calling in the International Task Force, led by Harry Potter himself. They'll capture me if they can, and take me back to Britain. I can't go back.

I managed to snare a rabbit a few hours ago, and it's been hung up ever since. I'll have to cook it manually, using matches and a cauldron. If I use my wand, they'll be on me in minutes. It's the height of stupidity to use magic now, but I can't leave it behind. If I do, I will be defenceless. I can't fight, but I can't take the chance of being wandless.

While the water's boiling for my rabbit stew, I take the chance to think, yet again, about what I did. As I said earlier, my crime is a heinous one. I killed the baby daughter of Harry James Potter. The guilt washes over me again, but I do nothing to fight it. I deserve the guilt. I deserve the pain. I deserve death.

God, I loathe rabbit. But I can't take the chance of being seen by anyone. I know that there are probably pictures of me in every airport, train station and apparition point on the planet. I backpack most of the time, only apparating when I'm in heavily populated places. It's much harder to track that way, especially if I reappear in another heavily populated place. Disappearing into the crowds has been my only refuge for so long.

I can feel something. I pull my wand, and take a second to glance out of the window. It's still relatively light outside, but there's nothing. Nothing visible, at least. But there's a strange sensation in the air. Oh, damn... it's an anti-apparition ward. They've found me. I have thirty seconds, at best, to make my escape. If the wards have gone up, there'll already be at least ten people surrounding this ramshackle house I've broken into. Huh... another crime to add to my impressively large sheet.

Without the possibility of apparition, I am limited to a physical escape, highly unlikely against Potter-trained Aurors, or a Portkey. I never bothered to get a Portkey-creation licence, but I know how. I try to avoid using them, since they can be tracked within minutes, but this time, I don't think I have an alternative.

I grab the knife I used to hack the poor rabbit to pieces, and tap it with my wand. I search my mind for the best place to go, concluding that Grand Central Station will be my best bet this time. Obliviators will have some overtime covering it up, but that's hardly a priority.

I grab my backpack, the only thing I've been able to keep with me, sling it on my shoulders, and activate the Portkey. I'm fortunate; they haven't had time to bring that ward up yet. As my vision fades, I see the door to the shack burst open, a pair of scarlet-clad Aurors entering with wands drawn. I recognise them, of course. How could I not? Neville Longbottom, Auror Lieutenant, is almost as recognisable as the man stood to his left, the man whose daughter I killed. They call out my name as the Portkey takes me away, but I can't reply.

* * *

New York. What a town! If I was here sightseeing, I'd love it. I'm not, though. I'm running away, again, and time is running out. America's a bad place to run to. They have the highest Auror population in the world, following by Japan. I'm fortunate that there's so many taxis, though. The instant the Portkey landed, I tossed the knife into a rubbish bin, and head out of the door.

I climbed into the first taxi I saw, slamming the door shut and requesting to go to the Statue of Liberty. I've never been before, and I probably won't get to go this time. I'll have to jump ship out of the taxi, since I'm not actually carrying any cash on me. I feel a momentary pang of pity for the cabbie, but I'm sure he'll get over it.

I had to duck down on the back seat as I see Potter and Longbottom running out of the station. They've gotten even faster than I remember. That's not a good thing for me, really.

Now, I'm staying in some fleapit flat in a place whose name I've already forgotten. I've stamped on about fifteen cockroaches so far, and they're taking it personally, calling all their mates to come and join in. Little bastards.

I'm hungry. I've not eaten in two days, since my last meal was interrupted. I hope they turned off the cooker back in that shack. I'd hate to have burned it down. Two days fighting against cockroaches and fretting. Is this the time? Will I be caught? Will they send me back?

I try to put the rumbling in my belly out of mind. I've survived for over a week without food before. I can do it now, and I'll no doubt have to do it again in the future. Deciding on a distraction, I pull out my most prized possession; a photo album. I've had this for all my life, and when I ran, it was one of the only possessions I through to grab. I've got pictures of me in all stages of my life. When I got to Hogwarts, I didn't take any pictures, since I didn't have my own camera. I bought quite a few pictures off Colin Creevey, since he enjoyed snapping pictures all the damned time. Little prat. There's pictures of all my friends and year-mates. But most of all, there's pictures of Harry Potter. Flying on his broom. Sulking in the common room. Attempting to dance. Happy memories.

I look up sharply as the heavy feeling of an anti-apparition ward goes up. My hand's already drawing my wand, preparing to make another illegal Portkey, but the pillow-over-face sensation of Potter's famous 'ward-bundle' makes me shudder. That bundle pretty much makes fighting impossible. As long as it's up, and it'll probably be tied directly to him, the game's over. No Portkeys. No apparition. Hell, won't even be able to cast a spell.

Again, the door explodes inwards after contact with Harry's boot. He stood in the doorway, alone this time. I guess he knew he wouldn't need back-up. Not after disarming me so completely.

My hands are shaking terribly as I raise my wand. It's pointless, but I can't just let it go. I let out a small sob as my wand sails out of my hand, caught by those blasted seeker reflexes and tucked into his pocket.

A stare off. Those Avada Kedavra green eyes stare at me, and I can see nothing in them. Those eyes used to be so expressive. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and it could all easily be read in his eyes. Not anymore. My crime has killed the 'windows to the soul'. He steps forward, and my fear ramps up. I throw myself off the couch, scrabbling backwards until I hit the wall. I can feel splinters enter my fingers as I push myself back on the rough floorboards, but the pain is practically non-existent in my terror and shame.

He marches forward relentlessly, no fear or hesitation in him. He's like an arrow from a bow, straight, fast and true. He stops bare inches in front of me, staring down at me with those dead eyes as I'm still futilely trying to scrabble back further.

He kneels in front of me, staring at me. I'm like a fly in amber under the raw power of that gaze. For a moment, just a tiny, brief moment, I can see the pain in his eyes. The pain that I caused. The pain that will never go away. All because of me.

Slowly, he reaches out with both hands, and my scrabbling becomes thrashing. I have to get away. Either run or die. Which doesn't matter any more. I can't face him. All those things that I've tried to hide, my shame and pain, will come rushing back. He'll know. He always knows.

His hands take hold of my face, slowly turning it towards him. I scrunch my eyes closed, as much as I can. I can't look into those eyes. Everything will come undone.

Slowly, his thumbs rub on my eyelids, prompting me to open them. I try to resist, but I can feel active magic in his fingers, forcing them open. His face moves slightly closer as his eyes lock onto mine, and I can feel a mental probe approaching.

I have impressive Occlumency defences. They've been worked on for a _long_ time, constantly reinforced and tied directly to my magic. I am, without a doubt, one of the top five Occlumens on Earth. And I know it's futile. He could rip through my shields like they were tissue paper.

He doesn't, though. I can feel his mind encircling mine, like an ocean surrounding a tiny desert island. He doesn't push through. His mind stays still, content to wait until my concentration wavers. I cannot keep him out. So, I let him in. I lower all of my defences and give him free reign.

Instantly, feelings overwhelm me. My feelings, those I've been suppressing as much as possible using my Occlumency. Waves of rage, pain, misery and suffering fill my mind, and I know he can feel them. For a few moments, I feel the same as I did when I killed his baby; full of self-loathing.

Slowly, though, I became aware of Harry's powerful mind and magic reaching out and smoothing out the feelings. A voice-but-not-a-voice asks to question me, to find out why I did what I did. At this point, I'm helpless and literally have nothing to lose. I agree, and the memories once more wash over me.

I remember as I accept the proposal, looking at a small, tasteful engagement ring being placed on my finger. I remember my wedding ceremony, my husband looking utterly gorgeous and knowing it. I sigh with a half-chuckle/half-sob as the wedding night runs through my mind, the pair of us insatiable.

I remember the news that I was pregnant, and I remember my husband's elation at the thought. I remember walking across the Ministry of Magic atrium, and slipping on the wet floor. I vaguely remember blacking out and waking up in St. Mungo's, my husband holding my hand, as the Head Healer told me that I had lost the baby.

I killed Harry Potter's baby. I killed my husband's baby. I remember the self-loathing as it formed, pushing me to get away from him as soon as possible, before I cost him any more.

I remember apparating away from the hospital, grabbing my photo album and my wand, before I began running. My sobs are near screams as the pain of my actions, my crime, again washed through my mind.

Harry's mind, though, isn't inactive. He shows me his feelings, his memories. He felt the same pain and almost mind-numbing grief that I felt, but he also showed me his strength. He would do whatever was necessary to protect me. The woman who promised to love him, honour him and cherish him, and the woman who killed his unborn daughter. He didn't see it like that, though. He saw it as an accident. He saw that I was in pain, and offered everything that he was.

He showed me his devastation as I ran away, and he showed me the selfishness of what I'd done. He showed me my arrogance by assuming that I was the only one in pain. He showed me his love for me, and I felt unworthy.

"You're not unworthy." He whispered into my ear as I collapsed, sobbing, into his arms. "You were _never_ unworthy."

"I'm sorry!" I sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry! How can you stand to look at me?"

"Because I love you. I've always loved you, and I always will love you. And it's time for you to come home. You're been running too long."

"I can't!" I gasped. "I can't go back, Harry! I killed her! Don't you understand?" I can feel my voice getting louder and more shrill. "I killed her! I killed our baby!"

"You didn't." He said softly, and I can feel the pain in his words. Pain that I, one again, am causing him. "You did not kill her. You had an accident. I don't blame you. It was not your fault."

"I should have protected her!" I snapped. "She was a defenceless baby, and I killed her!"

A sharp slap across the face instantly stops me. Did he just hit me? Did Harry Potter, the poster child for the light, just hit a woman? Damn him... it worked, though. My shock has stopped me babbling.

"I love you." He said stubbornly, and I could see through the mask over those eyes. His pain had never gone away, just like mine hadn't. The pain I had was nothing compared to his. I knew that.

"Please come home." He whispered, staring at me. "I need you. I can't do this alone! I never could! I need you back." It was his turn to cry now, leaving me absolutely shocked. Harry has _never_ cried, not even when Sirius was killed. But this... I've made the strongest guy I know cry. My self-loathing peaks again.

"Please come back to me..." He whispered, pulling me closer. "Don't leave me again."

"I can't." I whisper back. "I killed her, Harry. I ended her life because of my own stupidity."

Again, he's pulling my head back, staring into my eyes. And again, I feel his emotions. They're like a tidal wave again the tiny island of my mind. I can feel his pain, but his pain isn't just loss; it's loneliness. He's had to deal with not only the loss of his unborn daughter, but the abandonment of his wife.

I can feel his support, and his love... his love eclipses me, wraps around the terrified, pathetic thing that I've become, and I feel warm for the first time in 469 days. A part of me screams that I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to feel his arms around me.

But a part of me wants things to go back to how they were, however futile that desire is. Things will never be what they were.

"They can be." Harry's voice whispers into my mind. "Only together will we heal. You need me, just as I need you. And we cannot be apart any more. I won't let you go again."

I want to scream and shout, but his mere presence has robbed me of that ability. The power of his personality washes over me again, making me ashamed of my weakness.

"We can try again." He offered. "Together, you and I can overcome anything. I won't let you go. Not again."

A harsh sob erupts from my throat. How can we try again? How can a baby-killer like me even think of trying for another child?

"You are _not_ a baby-killer." Harry's voice, dark and menacing, tears through my mind like a missile. "You are my wife and my love. You are mine, and you're coming back with me."

Any desire I have to protest runs and hides at this proclamation. The power of his personality makes me quail. Harry and I have always been equals, always, but in this, he dwarfs me.

I can only ask one question: "How?"

"We will get through this." His mind tells me firmly. "My love for you will help heal you while your love for me will help heal me. Once we've put ourselves together, we'll try again. I love you, and I will not leave you."

Even though we're debating in my mind, I can feel his arms wrap around me and we're squeezed through a tube. I recognise where we land, of course. After all, I decorated this bathroom myself eighteen months ago.

His eyes locked on mine, maintaining the mind-to-mind contact. I can see his hands moving, and I hear water running. He's running me a bath. This used to be one of our favourite activities, back in the day. A hot bath led to some quality snuggling, which of course, led to our unborn daughter. Again, without breaking eye-contact, he lifts me into the bath, my smelly clothes vanishing as I was lifted. The water is the perfect temperature, and he bathes me. 469 days on the run has made my personal hygiene suspect. I want to cover my nakedness, but his eyes never leave mine. I'm helpless to those eyes, always was.

All the time he's washing me, I can feel his mind caressing me, supporting me, providing me with the depths of his love and devotion. After everything I've put him through, he considers himself fortunate that I'm here. This man, this wonderful, incredible man thinks that he's lucky that a baby-killer is back in his life. The shame makes my eyes water, and the shame of that simple action, when I have no right to be in pain, makes the tears worse.

His mind wraps round me like a warm blanket as I'm lifted from the water, and carried into our bedroom. He lays me down, then banishes his own clothes.

I'm near panic. After everything that I've done, the prospect of being naked in a bed with my husband is beyond terrifying. I want to thrash about, but Harry's loving green eyes hold my resistance. I know the true power of his mind. If he wanted, he could implant compulsions directly into my mind. He could make me into a dribbling sexual maniac. But he doesn't.

Instead, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a tender hug. The sobs wrack my body as he shares his pain with me. He offers me everything that he is, positive and negative, and allows me to see how much he still cares. He doesn't want sex. He doesn't want to make love. He just wants to hold his wife. He wants to let her know that she's safe, because that will make him safe, too.

My muscles are relaxing in this comfortable, familiar embrace, but my mind is still racing at warp speed. How can he just forgive me? His mind is comforting mine, telling me that there is nothing to forgive. I did nothing wrong. I did not kill our baby. It was an accident. It was a tragedy, but no blame can be assigned. It simply happened. I can also feel him telling me of his pain and regret, but his belief that we would cope together, then his abandonment.

The tears come again, as my body moulds into his and we sob together. His chest is warm and wet as my tears trickle down, while my hair collects his tears. He knows everything that I've done. It's impossible to hide things from Harry Potter. I don't know what the future will bring. My self-loathing is still the predominant emotion in my mind. Only my shame of failing him keeps me there.

* * *

That shame and self-loathing lasted for almost two years. Every night, Harry would carry me to bed, link our minds and let us do nothing but feel. He would show me his pain, diminishing simply because of my presence. It was always there, though, which simply made me hurt. I had caused that pain.

It wasn't until the Intervention that things changed. Harry, under the direction authorisation of the Minister of Magic and the Department of Mysteries, arranged for a ridiculously-illegal summoning ritual. Together, Harry and I called into the ether for the soul of our dead daughter. It's a well-established fact that souls can be summoned, but it's never been tried with a pre-born. No-one knew if the soul will be that of a baby, or if it will be able to communicate.

We know now. Our baby was beautiful. She'd inherited the eyes of power from Harry and, unfortunately for her, the bushy-hair and big nose from me. She appeared to be around twelve years old, and she could speak. And she did.

She forgave me for what I did. She told me that there was no responsibility. The cheeky little thing even made me go and get a dictionary and tell her the definition of the word 'accident'. Definitely my daughter for the bookishness, and Harry's daughter for the cheek. She told me that she knew what had happened and that I was blaming myself.

Harry and I made love that night. Fortunately for everyone's sanity, our daughter's soul had moved back, passing on a message to Harry about how Grandma Lily was taking care of her and teaching her how to prank Grandpa James. We all cried.

I'm in hospital right now. I'm utterly exhausted, but I can't bring myself to sleep. In my arms is a tiny baby girl, scarcely two hours old. During my labour, I stayed silent. The pain was immense, as it felt like our baby was trying to exit my body without using the chute. But this pain was worth it. This pain allowed me, and Harry through his Legilimency, to know that our baby was coming. And here she is. During my labour, for just a brief moment, I thought I could see a soul watching over me, blessing us with a healthy birth.

My name is Hermione Jane Potter. There will be hardships to come in the future, but I will stand, and I will fight, alongside the man who chased me down and brought me home. I have stopped running.


	12. They're Not Real

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

* * *

Harry sighed as at least a dozen post owls landed on the table in front of him, each of them trying to push the others out of their way so they'd be able to deliver their letter first. Normally, Harry would allow the birds to wrestle for a few moments, since it was funny watching them nudge and shove each other. This morning, though, he just wasn't in the mood. One by one, he pulled the letters off, stacked them neatly next to his porridge, and sent the birds on their way.

Taking a spoonful of his sweet oaty goodness, Harry opened the first letter, absently putting the inevitable photograph on the table while reading the letter.

Behind him, a group of amorous young gentlemen had gathered, as they always did when Harry received mail, since it was the best place to spot semi-naked photos of top totty.

Harry read the letter, glanced at the photograph, pulled out a self-inking quill, made a note on the back, and placed it back into the envelope, before shoving it into a pocket. The next letter made his frown, before he glanced at the photo, his eyes widening. "I didn't think that was possible..." He muttered to himself as he made another note.

"Good morning, Harry." A voice said seductively from the other side of the table.

Glancing up, Harry spotted Ginny standing there, hands on hips as she waited for his reply. In less than a second, he'd looked at her uniform, deciding it was definitely against the dress code. Her school blouse had been shrunk until it was two or three sizes too small, barely covering her chest, while the bottom had been tied up just beneath her breasts, exposing a tanned, toned stomach. Her belt, for it truly couldn't be called a skirt, was entirely too short.

_Jesus... one sneeze and the surprise is out._ He thought absently. _I just hope she's wearing knickers._ "Good morning, Ginny. How're you today?"

"All the better for seeing you, Harry." She replied breathily, making sure to push her chest out as much as possible. "May I join you?"

Harry gestured at the bench opposite him. "Well, I'm just sorting through some mail, then I'm heading off to Transfiguration."

"Oh, I'll take whatever time I can get." Ginny replied. "Anything interesting in the mail?"

"The usual." Harry replied, opening another letter. "Gah... that's just wrong!"

Ginny leaned forward, spotting what looked like a photograph of a woman. Unfortunately, the photo was turned over, something scribbled onto the back of it, and tucked back in the envelope. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" He grunted, not looking up as the letter was placed into a pocket.

"What was that?"

He glanced up. "For some inexplicable reason, women keep sending me nude photos with their letters."

"Nude photos?" Ginny whispered dangerously. "People are sending you nude photos?"

"Yeah." Harry replied, opening another letter, glancing at the photo with wide eyes, before he opened the letter and read frantically. "Interesting..."

"What is it?" Ginny demanded, leaning forward. "Who's sending you pictures?"

"Practically every woman in the Wizarding world." Harry muttered, again marking something on the back of the photo.

"And why are you accepting them?" Ginny near-shrieked. "Why aren't you destroying them?"

"I have my reasons." Harry replied. "D'you mind not shouting? I'm trying to concentrate."

"Harry, why are you even looking at those hussies?" Folding her arms across her barely-covered chest, Ginny just scowled. "It's very disrespectful. Besides, aren't you interested in someone a little closer to you?"

"Ginny, I'm not playing this again." Harry said firmly. "We've been going through this for the last eighteen months. Now please, leave it alone."

"Good morning!" A bright, cheery voice said as they slid into place next to Harry. "How're you this morning?"

"I'm good, Hermione." Harry said, smiling warmly at his best friend. "What about you? You're either up late, or entirely too early and in the library."

Hermione blushed faintly as she reached for some toast. "Well... there was something I wanted to look up for that Charms assignment, Harry. Besides, the library's pretty quiet first thing in the morning."

"Hermione," Harry said patiently, "it's very quiet when you go because pretty much everyone else is still in bed."

She shrugged. "Best time." Pouring herself a cup of tea, she glanced down at the slowly-decreasing pile of mail. "So, anything interesting this morning?"

"He's getting pictures of naked girls!" Ginny said, accusation rampant in her voice.

"Again?" Hermione asked, semi-sympathetically.

"Every day, Hermione." Harry groaned, opening another one. The photo fluttered onto the table, where Hermione took a hold, but didn't pick it up.

"May I?"

"Be my guest."

Hermione lifted the photo and stole a peek, suppressing the natural wince when she did. The girl in the picture was a blonde, naked and in possession of a truly fantastic body. She had large, flawless breasts, a stomach that you could use as a spirit-level, was completely shaved and had legs that looked like they should have been encased in marble, so future generations could stare at sheer perfection. "Very nice." She said diplomatically.

Harry took the photo, made a small face, before turning the photo over and marking something on the back. Again, he put the photo and letter back in the envelope, before placing it in his pocket.

"What are you gonna do with them?" Hermione asked politely.

"What I usually do." He replied absently, opening another. "Sweet Jesus, that's unnatural!"

Hermione stole a peek, seeing a photo of a witch in her mid-twenties, neatly folded in half and doing things that would have given most normal men a heart attack. "Athletic, isn't she?" She said sadly.

"Hmph." Harry just made a note on the back of the photo, packed it up and put it back into the envelope. "Oh, sod this... I'll do the rest later. Shall we go to class, Hermione?"

Nodding, Hermione quickly swallowed the rest of her tea, before grabbing her bag and following him out.

* * *

During transfiguration, Hermione wasn't able to concentrate on the lesson at all. Instead, the images she'd seen that morning kept running through her mind. Over the last three... okay, six years, she'd been harbouring a rather blatant crush on the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. She'd been taken in by his reputation ever since she'd read about him. Then she'd met him, and the 'Boy-Who-Lived' fell out of her thoughts forever.

The real Harry, timid, scared and adorable, was far more interesting. She'd originally fallen into a slightly-protective older sister relationship, but when she'd seen his courage first hand, during the hunt for the Philosopher's Stone, she'd quickly realised that she didn't have sisterly feelings for him. That had been compounded during their second year, when she'd shot into the Great Hall and glomped Harry in front of everyone when she'd been depetrified. She'd found it impossible to release his hand for almost a quarter hour, and only when she'd nearly broken his fingers did she finally let go.

That hadn't been helped when the feast had been served, and Hermione had seen many of her favourite foods on the table. The kicker had been desert. Treacle pudding and custard. Hermione was never that fond of treacle (courtesy of her dentist parents), but she'd begun having fantasies about just what she could do with the custard. And Harry... and the Gryffindor table... Those fantasies had helped during the long, cold nights of Third Year, when Ron was driving a wedge between them over the blasted broomstick.

Fourth year had been worse, in many ways. During that time, when Ron hadn't been speaking to Harry, she'd had him all to herself, and it drove her to distraction. Her solid 'O' grades had dropped to 'EE', simply because she was concentrating on Harry. This time, though, her fantasies changed to include whipped cream, shaving foam and several other implements she'd never be able to show to her parents.

Fifth year had been probably the worse. Harry seemed to have truly discovered his hormones, becoming moody, irritable and entirely focussed on Cho Chang. Because of his radically stunted interpersonal skills, he couldn't understand that Cho wasn't interested in him. She was trying to relate to her dead boyfriend through the last boy who'd seen him alive. A guaranteed disaster, and she'd been unable to stop it. She was his sidekick, a brunette-with-boobs version of Ron.

Since Harry had defeated Voldemort six months ago, it seemed that his star couldn't rise any higher. On a daily basis, he received marriage contracts, requests for dates and, worst of all to Hermione's mind, offers of casual sexual encounters.

So far, she'd not seen him take these offers up, but she did know that he frequently left the castle, with McGonagall's permission. Where he went, what he did... she didn't know. But she could guess.

"Miss Granger?"

_Bollocks._ "Yes, Professor?"

"Are you planning to sit in with the second years?" McGonagall asked.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione glanced about, noting that the class had ended and the rest of her year-mates had vanished. _Damn..._ "Sorry, Professor. I was... lost in thought."

"Yes, I could tell." McGonagall replied. "You're homework is eighteen inches of parchment about chapter nine. It's due in two weeks."

Hermione immediately pulled out her homework planner and making a note. "Okay, Professor. I'm sorry I missed out the last part of your lecture."

"Miss Granger, please speak to him. It's doing you no favours." McGonagall said, striding towards the blackboard and waving her wand, cleaning the notes from it.

"Professor?"

"Dismissed, Miss Granger." The Scot said firmly, shooing her favourite pupil to the door.

A bit miffed at the casual dismissal, Hermione quickly packed her bag and stood. Once at the door, she glanced back, spotting McGonagall nod supportively at her, before she walked out. In the hallway, she saw Harry leaning against the wall, reading another of those blasted letters, and staring hard at the photo. He glanced up when he saw her, quickly stuffing the letter back into his pocket.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Fine." Hermione said with a sigh.

"Yeah... I believe that, Hermione." He said, stepping close and linking arms with her. "Come on, Robin... to the Batcave!"

* * *

Harry led them back to his room, closing the door and opening a small chest. He pulled out a tub of mint choc chip ice cream (Hermione's only vice, if you didn't count entirely too thick books) and two sundae spoons. "Come on, you." He said, gesturing at the couch. "Sit, eat ice cream and tell me your problems."

Hermione smiled at him, knowing that he was entirely too sweet. She casually tossed her bookbag onto one of the armchairs, before flopping onto the couch. She took one of the spoons, and scooped up a mouthful of the tasty treat, before popping it into her mouth and moaning softly as the ice cream melted on her tongue.

"So, what's up?" Harry asked, taking his own scoop of ice cream.

"Nothing, Harry." She said softly. "It doesn't matter."

"Hey, it matters." Harry replied firmly. "My best friend's unhappy. That's serious, and I won't rest until whatever it is that making you upset is sorted."

Hermione snorted. "Unless you can do surgery, Harry, not to mention know a truly-exceptional diet, there's not a lot you can do."

Blinking, Harry shook his head. "I can do some basic healing spells, Hermione, and I know a bit about nutrition... why, though?"

"I'm fine, Harry. Really." She leaned forward and took another scoop of the delicious ice cream. "Just forget it."

Harry tilted his head slightly to the side. "Hermione, are you having self-image issues?"

"What gave it away?" Hermione snarked bitterly.

He just looked politely confused. "Why?"

"'Why'?" Hermione repeated. "Harry, how can you say that?"

"My confusion makes the question quite easy, as it happens."

"After you got those pictures today..." Hermione trailed off, before glaring at the ice cream and savagely taking another spoonful.

"Oh, that reminds me." Harry said, plucking the small pile of envelopes from his pocket. "Excuse me a moment, will you?"

"Of course." Hermione said sulkily, watching as Harry moved to a corner of his room.

"Harry Potter's correspondence is stored in the file box." He called out as he picked something up from the floor. As he spoke, the object in his hands flashed into view, appearing to be a standard filing box. He placed it heavily on the table, before tapping it with his wand. The box lid flew back on it's hinges, revealing it was far bigger on the inside.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"This contains every piece of mail I've sent and/or received." Harry replied casually, opening the first envelope. He duplicated the photograph and straightened the letter, before reaching into the box and pulling out a sheet of already-written parchment. "This is one of my standard refusal forms." He said, writing in the woman's name and putting his signature at the bottom.

Hermione peered into the box, spotting the neat filing. There were several named folders, herself among them. "This has got all the letters I sent to you?" She asked.

"Yep." Harry replied absently, pulling a stapler from the back of the box, copying the letter he'd just signed, attaching the photograph and the original letter, before placing them in a small document wallet with the witch's name on the front. "I keep copies of everything."

"Why?"

"Because, one woman, about a year ago, sent me a marriage contract. I sent back a reply refusing it. Less than a week later, I got a letter from the Ministry congratulating me on my marriage. The bitch in question had gone to the Ministry with a forged document. McGonagall suggested I keep records."

"Makes sense." Hermione said cautiously. "Why've you got everything I sent, though?"

He looked up with an utterly adorable smile. "Hermione... you've sent me some of the cheeriest letters I've had. I treasure each one."

She blushed prettily for a moment, before shaking her head. "So... what do you do with all of these?"

"Like I said, I keep copies of each of them." He prised open one of the files, where dozens, more likely hundreds, of pale green document folders were stored, each of them with a witches' name on. "This way, if anything comes back to bite me in the arse, I have a record of what they sent and what I sent."

"Makes sense." Hermione said cautiously. "Why's it under a _Fidelius_?"

"Because it also contains copies of the naked photos," Harry said diplomatically, "and I have no desire for people to go rooting through my mail to see them." He quickly anticipated her next question. "And I keep copies of the photos just in case somebody points out that I'm harassing them. If I show a photo they sent, it's a damned sight harder to accuse me of starting something."

"So... you refuse them all?" She asked nervously.

"Of course I do." Harry said, quickly filling in more of the pre-written letters. "I have no desire to meet up with women who want to shag me because I'm famous."

"But... you go out. You often leave the school for hours at a time."

"Yes, to the post office in Hogsmeade." Harry said, sealing an envelope. "I can't exactly use school owls for all these, can I?"

"Oh..." Hermione blinked. "Why does it take you so long?"

"Because I usually have forty or fifty of these damned things to send." Harry said sulkily. "It's very annoying. And it costs entirely too much. Unfortunately, if I don't answer them, people tend to make assumptions."

Hermione nodded, while Harry finished his last reply, putting the last letter and photo in a file, scribbling a name on the front and sealing up the box. He sat next to her, moving the ice cream closer. "Right, let's talk about your self-image issues, shall we?"

"No." Hermione said quickly.

"Sorry, not an acceptable answer." Harry replied. "Why do you feel self-conscious, Hermione?"

"Because..." Hermione sighed. "Harry, that picture of the blonde."

"Yes?"

"She was really pretty, Harry. I bet half the women in that case have great bodies and marvellous... assets."

Harry shrugged. "That's other people, Hermione. What does it matter to you?"

"Because I'm not!" She wailed suddenly.

"Not what?"

"I'm not pretty like them!"

"Bollocks."

"See... wait, what?"

Harry took her free hand with his, and squeezed gently. "Hermione, they're not real people. There's nothing to them other than how they look. They couldn't hold an intellectual discussion with a paper bag. Some of them are pretty, true, but that's all they have going for them."

"That's enough, Harry." Hermione said sadly. "Don't you remember Ron just before the Yule Ball? Have to find the prettiest girl he could."

"Well, Ron's a dick sometimes." Harry said. "Besides, you're pretty _and_ clever."

"I'm not pretty."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Hermione, I refuse to argue like a four year old. I think you're pretty."

"I'm really not."

Harry sighed. "Right, one at a time, Hermione. Tell me your flaws. I'll tell you why you're wrong."

"Don't patronise me, Harry." Hermione said, trying to pull her hand free, but failing against Harry's superior strength. "You're only doing this to try and make me feel better."

"Start talking, Hermione." Harry said, placing his spoon gently on the table. "Or I'll hide the ice cream and tickle torture you."

She quailed; she _hated_ being tickled. The loss of the ice cream wasn't as serious, but she couldn't get mint choc chip in Hogsmeade... "Fine." She grumped. "My hair. It's a bushy bird's nest."

"It _is_ bushy." Harry said agreeably. "Why's that a bad thing?"

"Because it looks like a bird's nest." Hermione said quickly, only to pause as Harry reached up and began running his fingers through her hair.

"I've always liked it." He murmured, not looking at her, just staring at her hair. "Tell you the truth, I've always wished it was longer. It's so silky..."

She blushed as Harry just stroked her kinky hair. "It's like a bird's nest."

"No, it isn't." Harry replied absently, still running his fingers through it. "It's beautiful, Hermione. Like I said, I just wish there was more of it."

Her blush became epic as Harry lifted a lock to his face and inhaled deeply. "And it always smells like vanilla..." He trailed off as he looked at her bright red face. "Sorry... I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"You... you like my hair?"

"I love it." Harry replied, his green eyes glistening with pure honesty. "It's pure Hermione. Beautiful and wild." He moved back slightly, allowing her hair to fall back. "What else is 'wrong' with you, then?"

"I... I have a belly." Hermione said, glancing down at her stomach.

Harry chuckled. "Hermione, you do not 'have a belly'."

"I do." She said indignantly. "I'm a bookworm, Harry. I spend my time sitting and reading." She glanced at the tub of ice cream. "And I eat too much of that, too."

He reached forward, gently stroking her stomach. "Hermione, stop it. You are _not_ fat."

"I am." She said petulantly. "I know what I look like, Harry."

"Then show me." Harry said, leaning back.

She blinked for a moment. "You want me to take my blouse off?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Two reasons; one, I can prove to you that you're not fat." He stayed silent for a moment.

"And the other?"

"I really want you to." Harry said softly. "Please, Hermione?" He opened his eyes wide, staring at her pitifully.

"How does anyone resist those eyes?" Hermione muttered and she undid her robes. "I'm warning you though, Harry, if you laugh, you'll be spending the rest of the term with Madam Pomfrey."

Once her robes were undone, she had to put her spoon down and free her other hand from Harry's, before pulling the bulky robes off. She quickly removed her grey sweater, and began tugging on her crimson and gold tie. Once that was gone, she began unbuttoning her blouse, very aware her hands were trembling slightly. Why she was doing this, she didn't know. All he'd do is laugh at her saggy gut and non-existent chest. It was inevitable. Those bloody eyes!

Once the blouse was unbuttoned, she paused for a moment, holding the fabric shut.

"Hermione..." Harry simply said.

With a sigh, she parted the material, pulling her arms free and tossing the blouse to join the rest of her clothing on the coffee table. Nervously, she crossed her arms over her bra.

Harry stared at her uncovered stomach intently, before realising that it would probably make her feel a little uncomfortable. "Hermione, you're not fat." He said, reaching out and caressing her stomach. Hermione wasn't fat, it was true, however, she did have the tiniest little potbelly he'd seen. It probably added about a half inch to her waist line, if that, but to him, it was _adorable_.

"Yes, I am." She said simply, flinching when he looked up at her incredulously. She flinched again when Harry leaned forward and ran his tongue from one side to another. "H-Harry?"

"Hmm?" He leaned forward slightly to stab his tongue into her belly button.

"Harry? What are you doing?"

He looked up sadly. "Sorry... couldn't resist."

"Why not?"

"Because you do things to me, Hermione... I've wanted to do this since third year."

She blinked nervously. "But... Cho..."

"Was there while you and Ron were doing that bloody obscure flirting ritual thing." Harry said, giving her a slight shrug. "I figured that you two needed to work that out."

"But..." She glanced down at her belly, where Harry's hand was lightly stroking her. He followed her gaze down.

"I'm sorry." He said, pulling back. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"You... you didn't." She said. "It's just... Harry, you have supermodels offering you non-committal sex. Why on earth would you want to shag me?"

"Because you're real and very beautiful." Harry said simply. "If I thought you'd accept, I'd ask you out in a heartbeat."

Shock again overrode her senses. "If..."

"Hermione, your self-confidence issues would make you reject anyone asking you out." Harry said, showing entirely too much bloody insight. "I don't know why you have self-confidence issues, considering you're bloody gorgeous, but them's the breaks."

"I'm not." She protested automatically. "I'm not gorgeous, Harry. At best, if the person was feeling kind, I could be described as 'boringly plain'."

"Then we'll have to agree to disagree."

She frowned at him. "Why are you saying this?"

"Because I fancy you and want to go out with you." Harry replied. "Not to mention do unspeakable things to your body."

"But... I'm fat, I'm ugly, I have a big arse, small boobs and bad hair. I don't even remember to shave half the time."

Harry straightened up. "Hermione, do you trust me?"

"With my life."

"What about with your virtue?"

"Er... yes?"

"You shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I want to take your virtue away from you. Like I said, I want you, Hermione." He reached up and took her face gently in between his hands. "Let me show you, Hermione."

"Show me what?"

"That you're beautiful. That you're real. And that I want you."

She fell apart under that gaze. "H-How?"

"Show me the parts that you don't like." He said, reaching up to run his fingers through her kinky hair again. "Let me show you why they're not bad."

"Harry..." She said softly. "I... Please don't make me do this." She whimpered. "I'm just... I'm ugly. I know that."

Taking a chance, he leaned up to kiss her, gently running his tongue over her lips. She mewled quietly, resisting the urge to grab him. He was only doing this to make her feel better.

He pulled back slightly, staring into her eyes. "Tell me the truth." He commanded gently.

"About what?" She whispered.

"I can read you like a book, Hermione." He whispered back. "Your brain moves fast, but often in the wrong direction where I'm concerned."

"Harry..." She sighed. "You're just doing this to make me feel better."

"Hermione, I'm hurt." He said, pulling back from her. "Do you really think that I'd play with your emotions like that?"

"N-No..."

"Then why say it?"

She huffed for a moment. "Harry, I'm not pretty."

"Shut up." Harry commanded sharply. "Hermione, you're being stupid, and it's not becoming. I don't appreciate being called a liar."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, just..."

"No, Hermione." Harry said. "Okay, you gave me a list of what you think are flaws. You complained about your hair, but I love it. I will admit, I wonder if your other body hair's as soft as it is on your head."

She blushed prettily. "I..."

"Well, with any luck, I'll find out. You complained that you've got small boobs." Harry's wand appeared in his hand, banishing Hermione's bra, making her squawk and cover her breasts with her arms. Harry ignored her protests for a moment, grabbing his sundae spoon and dipping it into the ice cream. He didn't scoop any up, he just wanted the spoon to be cold. "Move your arms, Hermione." He requested gently.

Hermione looked at the trust and an unidentified emotion on his face for a moment, before allowing her hands to drop. Less than a second later, she gasped, as an ice-cold and slightly wet piece of metal was pressed against her right nipple. She glanced down, seeing Harry pressing his sundae spoon onto her breast. "Harry?"

Without answering, he leaned forward, licking the small droplets of mint choc chip from her now-hard-enough-to-cut-glass nipple. She moaned; his tongue was soft, wet and hot. His hands came up to caress both of her breasts, running his rough palms over her nipples.

"They're so pretty..." He said, staring at them. "They're so soft, Hermione, yet hard. A glorious contradiction."

"They're too small." Hermione said breathily, hating her body with a fiery passion, yet loving what Harry was doing with it.

Frowning slightly, Harry moved his hands closer together, perfectly simulating a WonderBra, and placed his thumbs into the valley he'd just created. "They'd provide a filling meal to any kids, Hermione, and what I'm thinking right now, they'd perform another function. They're gorgeous. Accept it and move on."

"They're-"

"Shut up." Harry said firmly, giving her a squeeze, which made her sigh happily. "Hermione, if you put yourself down one more time, I'm going to spank you."

"But-"

"No." Harry said simply. "Forgive my crudity, but you have great tits, Hermione. I like them, and I'd like to play with them often. You're also not fat, and you have very sexy hair."

Her blush was epic.

"What was next? Your bum, I think."

"My _fat_ bum." Hermione corrected. "It's immense. It's like two planets in a sack."

He looked up, an impish smirk on his face. "I'm looking forward to exploring the black hole."

Hermione's blush almost popped as all the blood in her body headed upwards. "B-Black... Harry!"

"Are you gonna show me, Hermione? Are you gonna let me fondle you?"

"Oh god..."

Harry ignored her whimpering as he stood up, pulling her to her feet. He was about to reach for her skirt, when he decided 'to hell with it'. His hands moved up to cup her cheeks, before he leaned in close, pressing his lips close. He wanted nothing more than to ravage her mouth, but she was still entirely too timid. He didn't want to frighten her off.

Hermione was in shock as Harry, the boy she'd wanted for so long but had constantly told herself she was unworthy of, kissed her. It was a soft, tender kiss. She pulled back slightly. "Are... Harry?"

"Yes?" He whispered huskily.

"Promise me this won't change things?" She whimpered.

"Oh, it'll change things." Harry said. "If I'm lucky, I'll have a girlfriend when I leave my room today. If I'm _really_ lucky, I'll have a fiancé."

Hermione's blush popped as all the blood drained, leaving her pale. "F-F..."

"Well, yes." Harry said. "Hell, if you were free two weeks on Saturday, I'd take you to Gretna."

"Gret..." Hermione gulped. "Harry, why are you saying this?"

"Hermione, you're the only woman who likes me as me. You don't give a shite about the 'Boy-Who-Lived', my bank balance or my fame. You're just... you. As you should be. That's why I like you."

"O-Oh..."

"Take Ginny for example. You saw her this morning, right?"

"Yes." Hermione said cautiously. She had indeed seen Ginny, with her smallish but perky breasts in a tight blouse and her flat and tanned stomach. Yeah, she'd seen the little bint, all right.

"Well, when I saw her this morning, my first thought was 'Tart'. I like there to be some mystery involved. Because of the way she's been trying to 'tempt' me, I could probably tell you how many freckles she has. I find her just... meh. There's nothing of interest there. But you... you've got all sorts of bits that I want to uncover and explore."

Hermione frowned. "So... you like me because I'm a frumpy prude?"

Harry shook his head sharply. "What did I tell you about putting yourself down, Hermione? Bear in mind where we are; you're standing topless after I've just sucked on your nipple in my common room, and the only reason you're standing here in this glorious semi-nude state is because I asked you to. You're not frumpy... you're just not a little slapper. And I'm grateful for that."

"Why?"

"Because, if you're not showing off your assets, that means I can get the opportunity to explore them in private. With your permission, of course."

She stared at him for a moment. "Harry, are you serious? You want to go out with me?"

"I want to marry you." Harry said guilelessly. "Dating would be great, but we've been dating for the last six and a bit years, Hermione."

For a few moments, Hermione was in shock. Everything washed over her in confusion. He couldn't be serious, could he? She was _completely_ unworthy of him.

"You're putting yourself down again." Harry said, staring into her eyes. "I can see your mind operating, Hermione. You're denying me."

"N-no... yes." She admitted. "Harry, I'm not worthy of you."

"You're the only one who I think is." Harry said firmly. "I love your sexy little arse, Hermione Granger. I want to change your initials, though. I think 'HJP' would be better." He suppressed a grin at her shock. "Moving back to our original topic, you were saying that your bottom is like two planets, right? Well, let's boldly go where no man's gone before, eh?"

Hermione felt herself be turned around as Harry dropped to his knees, his hands instantly finding the button and zip on her sensible grey skirt. The thought of 'how does he know how to do this so well?' crossed her mind, but that thought fell out of her head as her skirt dropped to her ankles. She could feel his breath against her lower cheeks, and the thought made her both embarrassed and more than a little aroused.

Slowly, Harry reached up and caressed the waistband on her sensible white knickers. "Can I take them off?" He whispered. "Please, Hermione."

"F-Fine." Hermione said nervously. His strong fingers reached into her waistband and slowly, almost tortuously, pulled the cotton down. She lifted up her right leg, then her left, as Harry pulled her panties down and tossed them on his couch.

"Can I touch?" He asked.

"Please..." She sighed as his hands began to trail over her flesh, feeling hot and strong as he caressed her.

"These aren't planets, Hermione. Your bottom is fabulous."

Hermione gave a weak half-smile. "Harry... that sounds so... clinical..."

"You have a stunning arse, Hermione." Harry said. "Absolutely bloody stunning." He leaned closer, licking up her left cheek, across the cleft and down the right. He tightened his grip slightly, going from caressing to fondling. "You know... I think I'm gonna have to become an arse-kisser when faced with this level of perfection."

"Harry, it's too-"

A light swat hit her bottom. It barely made contact, sounding almost silent in the small common room, but it had the desired result of stopping Hermione's self-doubt. "Please don't, Hermione." Harry said, his voice thick with emotion. "Please stop putting yourself down. Just... let me love you, please."

Taking a deep breath, she turned round, well aware of where Harry's head was. "Harry, it's just... you don't know what the other girls are like. They're all so pretty and perfect compared to me. How am I supposed to complete with them? With their tiny waists and big boobs and perfect bums?"

Harry's eyes were locked on the patch of hair in front of him, but he was still paying attention to Hermione's words. "By being yourself, Hermione. By being better than all of them, simply by dint of being yourself."

She blushed, yet again, as she realised where he was staring. "H-Harry... don't stare at me..."

"I can't help it." He replied. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"For what?" Her answer arrived less than a second later as Harry buried his nose in her pubic hair, his tongue instinctively flicking out and down. She gasped as her legs parted a little more automatically. Harry's tongue was relentless as it searched her folds for the tiny nubbin. And when he found it, Hermione let out a stuttering moan. He began flicking his tongue, driving her quickly and mercilessly towards her first ever orgasm.

His hands moved up to continue fondling her bottom, his index fingers working their way down the void in-between her cheeks.

She let out a shriek as her pleasure peaked, making her knees buckle. She fell backwards onto the couch, Harry keeping hold of her and scooting forward so he could continue his oh-so-sweet torture.

Hermione's IQ had dropped to single figures as Harry ripped another orgasm from her, making her thighs want to clamp shut, but his head and hands stopped that. "Harry!" She wailed, sounding as though she was in pain.

He tapped her thigh, letting her know that he was listening, but he never stopped his ministrations.

"It's so intense!" She sobbed.

"Ghud." Harry mumbled into her folds. "Ehnjhoy."

"Oh god..." She whimpered. "Oh, it's coming... Harry!" Her final word was a scream as her world exploded, Harry's too-talented tongue lashing away at her, prolonging the painful pleasure as her lower half burned in delight.

She rolled to her right on the couch, trying to get away from the fingers and tongues that were making her crazy. Her momentary relief turned into shock, as Harry simply waited until she'd rolled over onto her front, then took hold of her butt cheeks, pried them apart and carried on licking.

"Sweet Jesus!" Hermione shrieked as Harry's tongue began probing her rosebud. It was maddening; the sensation was infinitely relaxing and yet infinitely erotic. Her lower half again exploded into orgasm as Harry's tongue pushed it's way inside. "Yes!" She screamed, pounding her fist on the couch as he tongue-fucked her arsehole.

She felt herself relax as Harry stopped his frantic stabbing motion, instead turning it into a soothing massage motion. His hands, which had been gripping tightly, fell back into the caress, and Hermione actually felt herself start to purr. She could happily withstand this sensation all day.

"Harry..." She mewed, her arm flailing as she tried to tap his shoulder. He pulled back, making her mew again as the sensation was lost. Slowly, she hauled herself over, seeing Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve and point it at his mouth.

"I want to kiss you." He said, gesturing with his wand. "Didn't know if you wanted to taste yourself on me." His lips glowed for a moment as the spell cleaned him up.

She just stared at him. He'd given her a multiple screaming orgasm for her first sexual encounter. She could barely move, and this god in mortal form wanted to kiss her? "Please..." She whimpered. "I can't move..."

He chuckled and slithered up her body, stopping to pay homage to her breasts on the way past, before he kissed her passionately. She whimpered as her arms and legs wrapped round him automatically, wanting nothing more than to... "Oh god!" She whimpered.

Harry pulled back instantly. "Hermione? Are you okay?"

"I'm good..." She promised, "but you..."

"I won't push you, Hermione." Harry said firmly. "I'll just... I'll take care of it."

Hermione nibbled on her lip. "I... I don't know what to do, Harry."

"Don't worry yourself." Harry said. "Like I said, I'll sort it out in a bit."

Her nibbling increased. "Can I watch?"

Harry smirked. "You want to watch me play with myself? Wow... how kinky are you?"

That now-familiar sensation of face-burning returned. "Well... how will I learn if I don't watch?" She pointed out reasonably. "And I want to learn, Harry. If you're willing to lower yourself to be with me, I should know how to please you."

Harry's hand reached up between her legs to swat her bottom again. "I will not 'lower myself' to being with anyone. I want you, Hermione. More than you know. And I'm happy for you to watch."

She looked lost for a moment. "Er... how do we do this?"

Harry stood up. "Well, I normally lie down when I'm... doing that. Do you trust me enough to come into my bedroom?"

With a rusty chuckle, she held out her hand to him. "My legs barely work. Will you help me up?" She yelped as he casually scooped her into his arms, into the position normally referred to as the 'bridal carry'. The wording certainly wasn't lost on her. He stalked into the bedroom, placing her gently on the left-hand side of his bed, before he efficiently removed his clothing and placing his wand on the bedside table, then knelt next to the bed, reaching underneath for something.

Once he'd grabbed the item, he climbed onto the bed, placing a small black hand-towel over his stomach.

"What's that for?" Hermione asked as she snuggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You can probably guess." Harry said as he reached down and took hold of himself. Hermione took the opportunity to stare at Harry's penis. Even the thought of the piece of flesh made her blush. She knew the national average was 5.9 inches, 14.98 centimetres, but she could easily see that was a good size bigger.

"H-Harry?"

"According to the measuring spell, 8.3." Harry said. "And please don't ask me why I measured it."

"Okay..." She watched as his hand stroked up and down, the flesh moving underneath his fingers. "Aren't you supposed to use a lotion or oil of some kind?"

Harry stopped as he looked down at her. "Why?"

She tilted her head back, shocked to realise just how close she was to Harry's head. She'd barely need to move if she wanted to kiss him. Oh, how she wanted to kiss him! She shook her head slightly. "Er... well, I remember reading in one of the PlayWizards that Seamus left in the common room that the right way to... masturbate is to use some kind of lotion."

He just chuckled. "Hermione, how can there be a _wrong_ way to pull one off? As long as I find it exciting, and believe me, having a naked you on my bed is more than enough stimulation, I'll cum."

Hermione nodded, then decided 'to hell with it'. She leaned up and kissed him, feeling his body rock slightly as he carried on with his... ministrations.

"Do you... can I touch you?" She asked timidly, still not entirely believing that he'd want her. A tiny part of her brain told her that if she touched him, he be repelled. That part was slowly being silenced, thanks to the memories of Harry's tongue happily and vigorously probing her lower half.

"I'd love that." Harry said huskily. "What do you want to do?"

Bracing herself, she reached down, not wanting to stop the rather pretty sight of Harry stroking himself, and began to lightly run her fingers over his testicles. She was amazed by how soft and warm they seemed to be. Then a thought crossed her mind. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" He moaned softly, enjoying both his and her actions.

"Why are you shaved?"

"I'm not." Harry groaned, not shifting his gaze from her. "I've never had body hair. Please don't stop!"

She smiled timidly. "I won't." Moving her hand slightly, she changed from light caressing to gentle tickling.

"Holy shit!" Harry gasped, his hand speeding up as he began to pump harder. "Fuck, Hermione, that's great!"

She whimpered as she could feel her own arousal ramping up as Harry effectively humped his hand. Her body was screaming at her to rise up and swallow that rather attractive piece of flesh, but she was too scared. She wanted him, but she didn't want to rush it. Although, going from being best friends to having his tongue pushing into her crotch in one afternoon seemed plenty rushed. That was all him, though. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Hermione..." Harry gasped. "Stop thinking! Just watch!"

Interpreting his gasping as an order, she carried on her fondling, moving a finger down to his perineum and beginning to stroke lightly. The reaction from Harry was immediately as he moaned loudly. "So good..."

"Take the towel away." Hermione requested nervously. "C-Cum on your stomach, Harry, please. Let me see it..."

Using his free hand, Harry ripped the towel away, throwing it somewhere onto the floor. He sped up his pumping, wanting rather anxiously to complete his self-manipulation.

"Please cum..." Hermione whispered into his ear. "Please cum for me, Harry..."

With a howl, Harry froze for a moment, before his legs began trembling, and his hand pulled his Hampton down, closer to his stomach. Hermione watched, entranced, as his penis seemed to rear back before it sprayed his first spurt onto his stomach. She could hear Harry gasping before another spurt landed on his belly.

She couldn't believe how aroused she felt watching something so private. A small puddle of Harry's semen was sitting on his belly, glistening in the soft light of his bedchamber. "Thank you, Harry." She whispered.

"No... thank _you_, Hermione." He whispered tiredly. "I've never cum that hard before. I think it's because you were whispering to me. Do you have any idea just how damned sexy you are? And stop blushing and mentally contradicting me." He said, already anticipating her reaction. "But feel free to kiss me-"

She leaned up and captured his lips, thrusting her tongue into his very talented mouth. With one trembling hand, she moved up from his perineum, stroking his testicles and placed her hand over his. Together, they pumped him casually, more for relaxation than excitement.

Finally, he broke away, gasping for air. "Let me... just let me grab my towel."

Hermione stared into his eyes. "Do you want me... to clean you up?" She offered hesitantly.

"Want you to? Yes." Harry said. "Expect it of you? No. Only if _you_ want to, Hermione."

She stared down at the small puddle, wondering about it. She'd heard from Lavender (not to mention Parvati and Ginny) about the evils of semen, 'warm, salty grit' as Parvati put it. Each of them had refused to allow it into their mouths, which made Hermione willing to try it. She leaned up to kiss him again, just for a moment, before she glanced down again. "I... I'd like to try, Harry."

Harry smiled at her. "If you're sure, Hermione."

"Y-Yes." She replied timidly, shuffling down the bed slightly and staring at it. She could catch a whiff of the semen, noting that it wasn't too repellent, but it wasn't something she'd use instead of perfume. Taking a deep breath, she quickly lowered her head, dipping her tongue into the largest splodge. She closed her mouth for a moment, sampling the taste. It wasn't too bad. Very salty, true, but it was tolerable. It was doubtful she'd use it as a dip for crackers, but she'd be able to handle it. She quickly began flicking her tongue over Harry's stomach and crotch, hunting down and cleaning him up. Her head shot up as Harry giggled.

"Sorry... it kinda tickles."

She smiled shyly as she carried on licking, feeling him writhe underneath her as she cleaned the last traces of his discharge up. She leaned over and grabbed his wand, performing her own mouth-cleansing and breath freshening charm, before moving her head down to kiss him again.

"Harry?" She asked after breaking the kiss and moving back to his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"You said earlier that things will change... do you still want me as a girlfriend?"

"Depends." Harry replied sleepily. "Will you marry me?"

"You were serious?" She whispered nervously. "You want me?"

"Very much so."

"Y-Yes." She whispered. "Yes, I'll marry you, Harry. I love you."

"I love you too, Hermione." Harry said, his arm snaking round her waist and pulling her closer. His other hand plucked his wand from his bedside table, before being aimed at his dresser. The drawer opened neatly, a small box erupted and the drawer closed itself. Using his seeker reflexes, Harry pulled the box from the air, and opened it. Inside was a beautiful simply white gold band, four medium-sized diamonds, with eight sapphires surrounding them.

"Oh, Harry..." She moaned, reaching out to take the ring. She slipped it onto her finger, feeling the charms on the ring resize it to fit perfectly. "Thank you."

"Entirely my pleasure." He said, tossing the empty ringbox onto the bedside table. He pulled her closer, and she relaxed into the warm sensation, feeling truly at peace. She was safe here.

* * *

When they awoke early the next morning, Hermione shot out of bed in a panic. She'd slept in Harry's bed! Oh, god, she-

"Hermione." Harry said, stood directly behind her, his arms already wrapping themselves round her stomach. "I can hear your brain whirring. Do you regret what we did?"

The question made her pause. Did she regret it? Did she regret Harry admitting he loved her, wanted her, found her sexy? Did she regret feeling his talented tongue and fantastic fingers in her little kitty? Did she regret being the victim of _astoundingly_ good cunnilingus and analingus?

"No." She whispered, relaxing slightly into his chest. "I just... I panicked for a minute, Harry. I thought it was a dream."

He chuckled and leaned down slightly, nuzzling her neck. She tilted her head to the side automatically, giving him all the access he could need. "I thought it was, too." He whispered into her neck, his breath tickling against her. "I was so scared when I woke up. What if it wasn't true? I'd have been so miserable..."

"M-Me too..." She whimpered as his teeth grazed her lightly, following by a soothing tongue. "Harry..."

"Will you still marry me?" He asked after a moment of nibbling on her tasty neck.

"If you want me." She offered.

"Always and forever." He promised in return.

She sighed as she snuggled into his chest. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Where do we go from here?"

He thought for a moment. "Well, I need a shower. And I'm hungry, so the Great Hall would be a good stop. Then classes."

"Not what I meant, Harry."

"I know." He sighed. "Hermione, I'd love nothing more than to elope, get married and have you become my wife. Your Mum and Dad already know how I feel and said that when I ask, they'll give me their blessing."

She span round, coming face to buff chest. "My parents know?"

"They do."

"But... ooh, that sneaky woman!" Hermione spat. "She knew! All those times I confessed how I felt to her..."

"You told your Mum you fancied me?" Harry asked. She nodded. "I told your Mum I fancied you, too... you're right. She is a sneaky devil, isn't she?" He chuckled. "Ah, well. So, would you like to shower first, second or together?"

Her head shot up as she stared at him, but there was nothing but tenderness on his face. "Er... well..."

"What?"

"Well, I was hoping to go and get my razor." She said tentatively.

"Why?"

"I've not shaved my underarms or my legs in a fortnight, Harry." She said, looking down at her hairy limbs in embarrassment. "I should, really."

"Just those places?" Harry asked.

She glanced up. "Well... I could... if you wanted me to, I-"

"I don't." He said, running his hand down her chest to cup her pubis. "I like this hair... it's so soft..." He chuckled at her blush. "If you want to share a shower, I'll soap you up, if you'd like."

She blushed again... but nodded.

* * *

75 minutes later, they strolled into the Great Hall, hand in hand. Their shower had been casual and intimate, until Harry had determined that she needed a repeat of his tongue massage. Her legs had buckled after the third orgasm, and she'd become boneless after number five. Harry had finally declared her relaxed enough after number nine, and helped her to her feet. It was definitely the first time Hermione had ever felt dirtier after a shower than before... it thrilled her to bits.

As they walked past a group of sixth year girls, including Ginny, Hermione heard one of the usual taunts from them, spoken just loud enough for her to hear, but not loud enough to be actionable. "Would you just look at the arse on her! It's huge! I don't know why he hangs round with the little bookworm bitch."

Her head dropped in embarrassment, but she tried to continue walking. She was stopped by Harry planting his feet and slowly turning to face them. "I'm sorry, Hermione." He said stiffly. "But I won't let people speak about you like that."

"No, Harry." Hermione tried to protest and began tugging on his arm. "Leave it, Harry, please."

"No." He strode forward one step, standing directly behind Romilda Vane, the little bitch who'd spoken. "What did you say, Vane?" He demanded.

Romilda turned round, plastering an obsequious smile on her face. "Harry! How lovely to see you! Will you join us for breakfast?"

"Repeat what you just said about Hermione." Harry commanded imperiously, allowing his full 'Man-Who-Won' power to shine.

"What do you mean, Harry darling?" Romilda simpered.

"Repeat. What. You. Said."

"I... I was just saying that Hermione's got a fat bum, Harry." She said winningly. "I mean... I don't know why you spend time with her. We'd be much better company."

Harry stared for a moment, allowing his eyes to glow faintly. "I believe you said 'would you just look at the arse on her.' Is that what you said?"

Romilda nodded timidly.

"Well, you'll be pleased to hear I took your advice. I did look at Hermione's bottom last night. I also stroked it, caressed it, fondled it, licked it and stuck my tongue as deep inside as I could."

Ginny was on her feet in seconds, wand in hand. "What?" She shrieked.

"Back off, Weasley." Harry commanded. "I've told you I'm not interested in you." He looked her up and down. "Oh, and ten points from Gryffindor for failing to observe the dress code. This is a school, not a whorehouse."

"You shagged Hermione?" Ginny shrieked, her Weasley temper already on maximum. As such, the filter between brain and mouth, often non-operational at the best of times, was turned off. Her volume control also appeared to be set on high, as every conversation in the Great Hall stopped.

"25 points from Gryffindor." Harry said. "Inappropriate conduct. What Hermione and I have done is irrelevant. Do not insult my fiancé, Weasley, or there will be... trouble."

"Fiancé?" Ginny repeated. "No! You're mine, Potter! I've been waiting for you since I was four years old! I'll not let that fat little bitch have you!"

"One month's detention with Mr. Filch for insulting the Head Girl." Harry commanded. "Run your mouth again, and I will put you in detention until the end of the year. The next words out of your mouth will be 'yes, sir'. Do you understand?"

Ginny fumed as she glared at Hermione, then raised her wand, her Bat-Bogey hex already on the tip of her tongue. The wand flew out of her hand, landing neatly in Harry's. "You will be in detention until the end of term, Miss Weasley. I shall notify Professor McGonagall and surrender your wand to her. You will have to ask her for it back." He sneered. "Enjoy your breakfast... bitch."

He reached out blindly and took Hermione's hand, leading her to the opposite end of the table before sitting down. "So... it's fun being my fiancé, isn't it?"

She chuckled nervously. "Are... are you sure?"

"Very much so." He replied happily. "Seeing those little bitches protest about it made me laugh, not make me have second thoughts, Hermione. You'll just have to accept that I love your ravishingly sexy body and mind."

"I'll try." She said, pouring them each a cup of tea while Harry put their breakfast plates together. After six years, they were so perfectly in tune... then it struck her. They _were_ in tune. They always had been. This would be no different, except they'd be giving each other orgasms. They'd always been in love. Always would be.

"Ah, you've figured it out." Harry said, taking his tea and taking a sip.

"Y-Yes..."

"Took you long enough, you slow woman!" Harry said, smiling to remove the sting from his words. "'Smartest witch of our generation', huh?"

"Shut up, Harry." She retorted. "Honestly... that's it, isn't it? That's why we'll work."

"Yep."

The sounds of dozens of owls flocking into the Great Hall made her look up. As usual, a large number of birds were flying towards Harry, but she wasn't upset about this. Not anymore.

She helped him open his mail, making the notes he told her to on the back of the photos. It didn't matter what the photos showed. There were pretty girls on there, true. But they weren't real. None of them, with their huge breasts and sexy underwear. None of them were real to her Harry. What was real was the love they shared, and had shared for so long.

Hermione knew she had flaws. She was bossy, annoying, irritating, small-breasted, potbellied, had bad hair and a big arse... but it didn't matter. She was, to Harry, real. What she saw as flaws, he saw as part of the whole package. And he loved the whole package. She'd be fighting with her insecurities for a while, but they didn't matter anymore.

She was real. And that was enough.


	13. Fools

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was a happy Mugwump. His plans had finally been completed, and he was relishing the fame and attention he was receiving. The plans had been complex, difficult and prone to discovery, but somehow, he'd persevered.

For just under twenty years, he'd been working on his plans to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort. Ever since he'd heard a genuine, gold-plated prophecy, he'd had to step in and take control of the weapon.

Enter Harry James Potter, weapon to the side of the Light. He'd been moulded, trained and conditioned to be a good little tool. And now that the war was over, Dumbledore was being recognised as the man who trained the Wizarding world's saviour; the man who was ultimately responsible for the defeat of Voldemort.

His plans had been complex, and had required a lot of work. Getting the boy completely under control had burned through his political capital, and a good portion of his liquid assets. Fortunately, he'd managed to override Sirius Black's will, taking control of the entire Black Family estate, nearly a million galleons of hard currency. With those funds at his disposal, he'd been able to replenish his badly-depleted family coffers.

The next plan had been to make certain that the young weapon wouldn't be lured down the Dark path. A betrothal arrangement with the Weasley family had ensured that Harry would remain faithful to the light. A half million galleons to the Weasley vault had persuaded them to accept the agreement. The boy had been seriously enraged when he signed what he thought was an inheritance form, but was, in fact, his marriage contract. Once that was signed, the 'deal' was done.

Even better, Dumbledore had a second level of security set up. Ginny Potter was only days away from giving birth to the Potter Heir, sealing control over the substantial Potter estate.

Originally, he'd been worried about Hermione Granger getting in the way of the plan. Fortunately, a love potion and another contract later, and she was firmly married to young Ronald. She, too, was pregnant, and would be delivering just a week or so after young Ginevra.

Yes... all in all, things were going very well.

Dumbledore was sitting in his office, drafting some more legislation to present to the Wizengamot. With the 'support' of the 'Boy-Who-Lived' (who still didn't know that Dumbledore was using his votes and fame to push through laws that Harry would _never_ have agreed with), he'd finally be able to get the Muggleborn Control laws passed. Yes... _very_ well.

A knock on his door, made him look up. He never noticed the wave of magic that filled the room for a femtosecond, before fading. With a slight squint, he peered through his door, spotting his hapless tool waiting on the other side.

"Come in!" He called happily. He casually wondered what the boy wanted now. As the door opened, Dumbledore plastered a fake smile on his face. "Ah, Harry, my boy! It's wonderful to see you!"

Harry stepped inside, smiling placidly at Dumbledore. "Good evening, Professor. Is it okay to speak with you?"

Dumbledore _loved_ the control he had over the little bast... boy. "Of course, Harry! Please, sit down." Once the obligatory offer of a lemon drop was over, the old man leaned back in his chair. "So, my boy, what can I do for you?"

Still with that placid smile, Harry leaned forward. "I've come to settle a few scores, Professor."

"Scores, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, still twinkling merrily. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You should be afraid." Harry said, all placidness vanishing. "I've come here to kill you, Dumbledore, for what you've done to me."

Dumbledore frowned. "I've not done anything to you, my boy, except provided you with an education."

"Really?" Harry leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "So you didn't steal my inheritance from Sirius? You didn't force me into a loveless marriage with a fan-girl? You didn't lie, cheat and manipulate me from my birth? I don't believe you."

Sighing, Dumbledore drew his wand. "It was for your own good, Harry."

"How? How is treating me like a weapon for my own good?"

Deciding (foolishly) to explain it to the boy before obliviating him, Dumbledore leaned back slightly, but kept his wand pointing at Harry. "If I hadn't done these things, you would not have been able to defeat Voldemort."

"That's not for _my_ good, old man. That's for _your_ good."

"You would not have your happy marriage, with a child on the way. I know of your desire for a family, my boy. Ginevra is supplying that to you."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes... the fan-girl, who's been trying to steal my entire family estate, is giving me a child. It's a pity what'll happen to her, though."

Dumbledore frowned. "What does that mean, Harry?"

"You don't need to know yet." Harry said. "You might as well surrender you wand, old man. At this moment, only I can perform magic in this room, and you'll never leave it."

Flicking his wand, Dumbledore threw a stunning charm at Harry... only to stare at the end of his wand incredulously when nothing happened.

"I just explained it." Harry said patiently. "So, you trapped me in a marriage I didn't want, while giving a big chunk of Potter coin to the Weasleys. You didn't even have the bollocks to tell me that it was a betrothal agreement."

"Without the love of Ginevra, Harry, you wouldn't have won." Dumbledore said, discretely reaching into his desk drawer for his back-up wand. It was certainly possible to block a wand from working, but that ritual had to be focussed on each individual wand. Again, his hand shot forward, another stunner on his lips, but that, too, failed to work.

"You're wrong, old man. I had all the love I needed from somewhere else." Without taking his eyes away from the manipulative old bastard, Harry called over his shoulder, "Come on in, love."

The door opened, revealing an obscenely-pregnant Hermione Weasley. "Twat." She said in greeting to the old man.

"Mrs. Weasley, what are you doing here?"

"I've come to settle _my_ scores, while my love settles his." She replied, perching on the arm of Harry's chair with a slight wince.

"Mr. Potter seems to be confused, Mrs. Weasley."

"Well, just like you trapped Harry into a loveless marriage with a Weasley, you did the same to me."

"Come now, Mrs. Weasley." Dumbledore said, still plotting a way out of this mess. "You are carrying Ronald's child. Surely you wouldn't be doing that if you did not love him dearly."

Hermione shook her head in wonder. "It's amazing just how fucking stupid you can be. I'm not carrying Ron's child. I'm carrying Harry's. Ron's been shooting blanks since his bachelor party."

Dumbledore shot to his feet. "What?"

"Ron's been shooting-"

"I heard you!" Dumbledore interrupted. "That's not possible... I had Madam Pomfrey run tests just before your marriage. Mr. Weasley was fertile."

"He _was_, yes."

"But..." Dumbledore's face dropped in horror. "What have you done?" He whispered.

"I neutered him." Harry said.

"Do you know what you've done?" Dumbledore roared, looking nothing like the twinkling grandfather. "You neutered a pureblood wizard!"

"Ah, there it is..." Harry said happily. "The pureblood bigotry I knew was there. Yes, I did, old man. I ended Ron's chances of fathering children."

"The purebloods are the future!" Dumbledore roared in absolute fury. "You had no right-"

"I did, actually." Harry said. "He wanted to have sex with my woman. He thought he was worthy of her. He's not."

"And you are?" Dumbledore hissed angrily.

"No." Harry admitted. "But she's still silly enough to be with me."

"Stop it." Hermione said bossily, rapping him on the back of the head. "You're the only man I could ever think of being with, Harry."

"See? She's daft, but I love her." Harry said, reaching up and running his hand lovingly over her bump.

"It was disgusting having to allow that Weasley spawn to touch me." Hermione said with a shiver. "Unfortunately, I had no choice on the wedding night. Those same bigoted laws you love so much meant that I was forced into having sex with the vile little creature. That was the only time, though... and that unfortunate accident he had with his wand... he can't even get it up any more."

Hermione held her hand over Harry's, and together, they caressed her stomach, causing Harry to smile as the bump bulged slightly. He looked up at the master manipulator. "I can't wait to meet my baby, old man."

"You will not live long enough." Dumbledore said, happy now that he thought he had a solution. "You made a magical vow to Ginevra that you would forsake all others. Now that your indiscretion has been discovered, you will lose your magical gifts. Everything will go to your wife, and myself."

Harry nodded. "Yeah... under ideal circumstances, for you, you'd be right. Unfortunately, you fell into the same trap as the Death Eaters; you underestimated the powerful mind of Hermione Granger."

"I wrote the betrothal myself, Harry." Dumbledore boasted smugly. "I estimate the penalties should take effect in just a few moments."

"Nope, still wrong." Harry said. "Do you remember when we were in Gringotts to sign that document? Hermione was reading over my shoulder, and made a few suggestions. She wrote them onto a piece of parchment. Remember?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Well, at the time, those love potions hampered my mind, but I still trusted Hermione. So, after she wrote all the conditions down, we incorporated them into a microdot on the contract... which you then signed."

"What?" Dumbledore's carefully made plans appeared to be in jeopardy, but he was Albus Dumbledore! He was infallible! Everyone knew that!

"Yes... the additional parts of the contract." Harry said. "The G500,000 you paid to the Weasleys is actually held in trust until 5 years of the marriage agreement date. If myself and Ginny part ways, the money returns to me. Those ways can be anything... even death. If she dies within the next four and a bit years, I get my money back."

Dumbledore frowned. "She's carrying your baby, Harry."

"I know that." Harry said, nodding sadly. "But, it's so sad... so many things can go wrong with childbirth. And when Ginny dies from 'complications'..." He trailed off, still looking sad.

"And poor Ronald." Hermione said, rejoining the conversation. "He's about to have a very bad broom accident. It's almost certainly going to be fatal."

"You can't do this!" Dumbledore snapped. "I won't allow it!"

"You have no choice." Harry said politely. "Because as I said earlier, you won't be leaving this room, Dumbledore."

"You don't have the power to defeat me, Harry." Dumbledore said smugly. "And even if you did somehow defeat me with trickery, the portraits here know the truth. They would be able to inform the Ministry of your crimes."

Harry smiled evilly. "Isn't it strange how they haven't said a word, old man? How they haven't even moved since before I entered this office?"

Dumbledore glanced up at the portraits in alarm, noting that they were all completely frozen. Panicking, the old man turned to Fawkes' perch, where the bound phoenix also appeared to be frozen.

"You messed with the smartest witch of her generation." Harry said. "A localised temporal charm. As long as we're in this room, time is frozen. Pretty complex stuff, really. A magical-signature suppression ward for yourself, of course. Wouldn't want you fighting back, would we?"

"Do you really believe I'll allow this, Potter?" Dumbledore demanded. "You are nothing more than a weapon to be wielded."

"Not anymore." Harry replied, his tone like ice. "As of right now, I'm free of your control. But there's still more, Dumbledore." He reached into his robes, pulling out a roll of parchment. "This is your will. We've already faked your signature and magical residue, so it'll hold up in Gringotts. That money you stole will be mine again. I'll also get _everything_ you own. Your books, your instruments... the other twenty-seven inheritances you've stolen. You're going to be very good to me when you die."

Dumbledore was about to bluster again, when his limbs locked to his sides, the Petrificus holding him in place. A silencing charm quickly stopped any protests.

Harry stood up and moved closer. He was about to complete his work, when a silly phrase popped into his mind. He leaned closer, getting almost nose-to-nose with the old man. He stared into Dumbledore's eyes, their famous 'twinkle' noticeably absent. "Twinkle, twinkle, little eyes," Harry said mockingly, "now it's time for you to... die."

A simple tug of his hand ripped open the old man's robes. Reaching into his robes again, he pulled out a small item. He turned back to Hermione as he pressed it against a particular spot on the old man's chest. "Here?"

Hermione squinted slightly. "No, about a quarter inch higher, and a half-inch to the right."

Once the item was in place and pushed in, Harry squeezed.

Instantly, Dumbledore gasped.

"That feeling..." Harry hissed evilly. "That was me injecting air straight into your heart. You're having an embolism, old man. You'll be dead in approximately seven minutes."

Hermione smirked from her chair. "The best part is, it's 'natural causes'. We'll never be suspected of your death."

The old man wheezed for a moment, before his black heart gave out.

Harry leant against the desk, glancing at his watch. "Six minutes, and then we're done here." He said casually. "Can you do clean-up?"

While Hermione was waving her wand, removing all DNA traces from the office, Harry released the Petrification and began moving Dumbledore's limbs around, ending up with the old man appearing to clutch at his left arm.

Hermione glanced over. "Perfect, Harry."

"Got it." Harry checked his watch. "Another minute or so, then we can get out of here."

The minute passed very slowly, with Harry and Hermione slowly making their way to the door. "Time." Harry called, closing the door softly. Hermione tapped the modified time-turner with her wand, ending the temporal spell. Smiling at her lover, Hermione slowly walked down the stairs.

"So, how are we going to kill Ginny?"

Harry smirked. "Complications during childbirth... they can be so... drastic. And messy..."


	14. A Sister?

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

* * *

Enraged... yes, that was probably the best way to describe it. Hermione Jane Granger, smartest witch of her generation and bookworm extraordinaire, was utterly enraged with the stupidity she'd just overheard.

Over the last five months, herself and Harry had been alone in a tent, traipsing over the United Kingdom in the hopes of finding Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, ancient spelled items that prevented his death. Until they died, he'd be immortal. Bastard...

However, three months ago, the third member of their Trio, Ronald Bloody Weasley, had pissed off in the middle of the day, ranting about how Harry had no idea and no hope, leaving them alone. She'd been distraught, of course, since they always did their best work as a trio. But recently, it'd been just her and Harry, and it allowed Hermione to fuel some of her cleaner fantasies about what it would be like to live with the Boy-Who-Lived in a more... domestic setting.

Hermione, naturally, hadn't told Harry about her burning desire to make babies with him, since the prat seemed utterly clueless about women. He'd dated two girls previously, Cho 'Hosepipe' Chang and Ginny 'Broomstick' Weasley, and both of those relationships had been utterly pants. What Harry needed, she kept telling herself, was to sit down with a good bookworm and bump uglies.

Of course, Harry was thicker than a brick sandwich when it came to these things. Even when Hermione had been sitting crying, feeling abandoned by Ron (and the Wizarding world in general), Harry hadn't come up to her and offered a nice, comforting shag. She knew that he had 'issues' from the Dursleys, but it couldn't get much plainer; distraught, horny girl and buff, good-looking lad. Sex equals happies.

And now, after hearing the... the complete bollocks he'd just said! She could feel her lips twitch as she growled. All because of three stupid sentences from her friend: "She's like my sister. I love her like a sister and I reckon that she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that."

A sister? A fucking _sister_? She most certainly did _not_ think of Harry as her brother. Instead, when she thought of Harry, she pictured whipped cream and erections, custard and nipples, and her favourite, him sticking his outy bit in her inny bit. Repeatedly. Often.

And he'd just said she was his bloody sister! Prat!

_Oh, no..._Hermione thought evilly. _I'm not his fucking sister... I'll show him I'm not his sister!_

* * *

Harry stepped into the tent, his hand on Ron's arm as he dragged him inside. "Hermione, look who's... _Hermione!_" He was forced to step back as Hermione let loose a beautiful, a truly _beautiful_, roundhouse right, that knocked a grinning Ron completely on his arse and completely out cold. With a smooth spin, she grabbed her wand from Harry's hand.

"What are you doing?" He asked, quietly, taking a subtle step back.

"Harry..." Hermione ground out through clenched teeth, "come with me."

She led him to the small bunk area, and pointed at her bed. "Sit down."

"Hermione, what's-"

"Sit down!" Hermione roared, making Harry immediately sit. He was tempted to see if begging would stop her ire, knowing that it would be futile. A pissed Hermione was a _dangerous_ Hermione.

"Do you know what I heard a few minutes ago?" She asked, tapping her wand between her fingers, causing sparks to come from the end. "When I woke up, and saw that you were gone? I listened at the doorway, and I heard you speaking, Harry... I've never been so disgusted in my life."

"What?" Harry asked. "What did I do?"

"You spoke, Harry!" Hermione snapped. "And I think Ron must have infected you, because you spoke nothing but stupid, inane ramblings!"

Harry blinked. "Eh?"

"You annoyed the crap out of me, Harry... and you must pay." With a flourish, Hermione aimed her wand at Harry. "Lie down."

Harry tried to stand up, not at all comfortable with Hermione's wand aimed between his eyes. "Hermione, what're you-"

"I... said... lie... down..." Hermione whispered dangerously, the end of her wand glowing.

Gulping, Harry sat back down, before lying on the bed.

"Hands above your head!" Hermione snarled, making Harry jump to obey. A quick flick of Hermione's wand sent thin brown ropes around Harry's wrists, tying him to the headboard.

"Hermione, what're you doing?" Harry asked quietly, hoping that a calm, measured response would help to calm the clearly-infuriated witch down. He was wrong.

"Your sister, Potter?" Hermione spat. "Your fucking _sister?_"

"You swore..." Harry blinked. "Hermione, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not!" She shrieked angrily. "You think I love you like a sister? How can you be so bloody blind, Potter?"

"I'm confused." Harry said bluntly.

Hermione perched on the edge of the bed, reaching up to gently caress his face. "Harry?" She asked sweetly.

"Y-Yeah?"

"You're wrong. And quite stupid." She grasped his chin so firmly, he couldn't move... and the bowel-loosening fear didn't help, either. "I don't love you like a sister. I fancy your arse off. I want you to blast a baby into my belly, not braid my hair! And you never bloody noticed!"

"Still confused." Harry said, whimpering slightly when Hermione's grip tightened. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"I'm having to spell out the bloody obvious." She snarled. "We're going to fuck, Harry. You and me, right here, right now."

"F-F... what?"

Hermione released his chin and stood up, brandishing her wand again. A quick flick removed Harry's clothes, leaving him with nothing but his glasses. Hermione thought for a moment, then cast a warming charm round the bed. The last thing she wanted or needed was shrinkage.

Casually, she reached up and pulled off her jumper, leaving her clad in t-shirt and bra. "You know, Harry... originally when I planned to do this, I was gonna sit down with you and calmly brainwash you to my way of thinking. Now... I've scrapped that idea. I'm gonna force the issue."

"F-Force?" Harry gulped. He was feeling just a _tad_ nervous.

With a lecherous grin, Hermione reached up and pulled off her t-shirt, leaving her bra (complete with straining nipples) as Harry's sole focus. Like a true gentleman, though, Harry closed his eyes and turned away. "Oh no you don't!" Hermione snapped, reaching out and grabbing his face again. "You're going to watch, Potter!"

Harry was terrified at this point. Hermione was stripping in front of him... and forcing him to watch... and she had really nice breasts...

The bra was unclipped and casually tossed onto the floor, leaving Hermione nude from the top up. Harry felt a slight stirring in his crotch, but concentrated on images of Umbridge in a bikini... with a riding crop... spanking Mr. Filch... yeah, that worked. The stirring gradually began to fade away.

While he was picturing the truly revolting scene, Hermione tossed her wand onto the small bedside table, and unbuttoned her jeans. Harry's attention was slowly being forced to the bits she was uncovering... and it was really hard not to stare at her chest.

Hermione shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her with just panties and socks. The socks quickly joined the jeans in the pile of discarded clothing. Clad in just a pair of small black panties, Hermione was a formidable sight. "You know, Potter... just doing this has turned me on. Looking at you naked, feeling your eyes on me..." She shivered lightly as she scraped her fingers lightly over the gusset of her panties. "Oh, look... they're all wet..." She cooed, before grabbing the sides and lowering them down. She quickly scooped them up, twirling them round her finger.

At this point, Harry's eyes had dropped to the newly-uncovered crotch, and he couldn't stop the stirring this time. Hermione was really very attractive, and he knew, with absolutely no shadow of doubt, that she was definitely a natural brunette... and the carpet certainly matched the curtains for bushiness...

Hermione could almost read his mind. "Yes," she said impishly, "my bush is bushy, Harry. Get over it." She took a step closer to the bed, leaning ever closer. "And do you know what comes now?" She asked coyly.

Trembling, Harry shook his head.

"I'm gonna place my knickers over your nose, Harry." She said lovingly, doing just that and arranging them so the damp gusset was directly over his nostrils. "But this is only the beginning, Harry." She grinned to herself as she watched Harry sniff experimentally. _Damn, that was hot..._

Slowly, she climbed onto the bed, straddling his chest and tucking her knees right under his armpits. Her little kitty was about six inches from Harry's head, and she relished in the feeling that he was watching her.

"I'm gonna play with myself, Harry." Hermione said firmly. "And you're going to watch, aren't you?"

He wanted to shake his head in refusal, thinking this wasn't right and wasn't respectful to her, but that'd dislodge the pleasant fragrance from his nose. Not to mention that he was completely at her mercy at the moment, since he didn't have a wand and he couldn't release the restraints. Slowly, he sighed, then nodded slightly.

"Good boy..." Hermione cooed. "You can learn, Potter."

"Hermione..." He slurred into her knickers. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because your scrawny arse is mine, Potter." Hermione said simply. "For seven years I've covered your back in everything... now I want my reward. You're it." To make certain he was paying attention, Hermione sensuously licked the tip of her finger, before gently rubbing it down her breastbone. The trip from mouth to crotch took fifteen seconds, but these were fifteen of the longest seconds in Harry's life.

Before she did... whatever she was planning to do, she began to lightly run her fingers through her pubes. To Harry, it was a compelling sight. _They look so silky..._ He mused absently, before realising he was having inappropriate thoughts about the girl who well have been his sister. He wriggled slightly, feeling that stirring escalate further.

Hermione, in the mean time, was enjoying the sensation. She'd always enjoyed stroking her kitty, not only as some masturbation foreplay, but just because it was very relaxing. The look on Harry's face was compelling, almost prompting her to carry on with what she was doing... not that she had _any_ inclination to stop.

Slowly, she moved her hand lower, sighing happily as she rubbed over her clit, before pushing her finger ever-so-slightly into her opening. She didn't want a dry finger rubbing that little bundle of nerves, after all, and the look on Harry's face was more than making her wet. As she moved her fingers back up, she noticed Harry's eyes lock onto the tip of her finger.

_Wait... this isn't the best view._ She thought. She altered her stance slightly, leaning back as far as she could, but not too far that she couldn't see Harry's face. That was almost the point, really; if Harry wasn't watching, he'd keep on with those silly bloody notions of sisterhood and nobility, and the itch she had needed scratching would be ignored...

Harry watched her lean back, and his eyes widened as her... he couldn't bring himself to refer to it by name, _that place_ opened up like a flower. _That's really pink..._ He mused absently, _and why's it shiny?_

"Are you watching, Harry?" Hermione asked huskily. "Are you watching me pleasure myself right in front of you?"

Harry nodded vigorously, pouting when Hermione's knickers fell off his face.

"Oh, that won't do at all." Hermione said, reached forward with her free hand to put them back. "Can you smell my arousal, Harry? Can you smell how wet and horny you make me?"

"Mmmhmm." Harry groaned, watching as Hermione resumed her wanton pose.

"Then watch now. I'm gonna make myself cum for you, Harry."

Hermione's hand began moving in a leisurely circle, Harry's eyes locked onto the sight like a hawk. The circling motion was smooth and easy, and Harry could see the small nub expertly twist and move around her finger. For a moment, just a brief moment, he wondered what it would feel like under _his_ finger...

"It's so good..." Hermione said breathily, enjoying the enthralled look on his face. This was _way _better than porn! "Can you see what you do to me, Harry?"

"Hermione..." He groaned lightly.

"Watch me cum, Harry!" Hermione commanded, speeding up her diddling. She was close; the stimulation was good, but the fact that she'd plopped herself on Harry's chest and was doing this right in front of his face? _Far_ better.

With her free hand, she reached up and pinched her left nipple lightly, waiting until the nipple was hard until she began pinch/tugs. She quickly moved from her left to her right, enjoying the feeling. Fortunately, Hermione was an expert at multi-tasking, and never lost her stroke on her clit.

Harry was lost; which should he look at? Those little pink nipples being pinched, or the small pink nub being manhandled so expertly... and why was he getting an erection from this? Surely he should have been disgusted at watching his practically-sister masturbate... right?

Hermione could feel his arousal, and it fed smoothly into her own. Her nipples began to feel tighter, and she could tell she was getting wetter. Her finger sped up, making her moan in contentment. In the bottom of her belly, a burning sensation started, making her gasp as it pooled just above her crotch.

"Harry..." Hermione groaned, "I'm gonna cum for you, Harry... I'm gonna cum!" On the final word, Hermione's thighs clamped around Harry's chest. Her finger sped up, prolonging the ecstasy she felt. She felt an urge to close her eyes and enjoy it, but watching Harry, who's eyes were wide and beginning to darken with lust, was much better for her orgasm.

Normally, she stopped after her first orgasm, wanting to enjoy the aftershocks, but she wanted Harry to watch her pleasure herself. She sped up her diddling, making it look like she was furious with her clit and wanted to punish it.

Harry still couldn't take his eyes off her. His chest hurt a little from where she'd clamped down, but he wouldn't, he _couldn't_ stop this. Slowly, he raised his eyes up, passing her breasts and starring into the smouldering pools of lust that had become her eyes. She was staring intently at him, and he was like a fly trapped in amber. Those eyes had locked him in... he knew she was still fondling herself, since he could feel her movements, but those eyes...

Hermione's hand was a blur as she drove herself to another orgasm, crying out in a way that would forever obliterate Harry's 'sisterly' feelings; "Oh, god... Harry!" Again, her thighs locked on his chest, driving the air from his lungs, but breathing didn't matter when a goddess was masturbating on his chest.

Slowly, Hermione lowered herself down, shuffling backwards until her bum hit a fleshy pole. She was about to say something, but had an impish idea. She lifted her legs over him, continuing to move backwards until she was kneeling between his thighs.

Harry's eyes widened considerably as he took in her stance; she was in the perfect spot to give him... pleasure. Hermione's hand reached up, as though she was about take him in hand... but she allowed it to drop on his thigh.

"Oh, wait..." She said demurely, "I forgot... you think of me as a sister, Harry. You wouldn't want me touching you, would you?"

"Hermione..." He groaned.

"What, Harry?" She blew on his member, enjoying the full twitch. "You said you love me like a sister. You would want your sister rubbing your cock, would you? You wouldn't want your sister taking that big cock into her mouth and sucking it like a lollipop, would you?" She gave a look of mock-disappointment. "Such a shame, _brother_... I was looking forward to tasting this beautiful dick..."

"Hermione, what do you want from me?" Harry moaned in pure frustration.

"Nothing, brother dear." Hermione replied coyly.

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm _not_ your sister, Harry. I'm a woman who wants to taste you, lick you, ride you... it's _you_ who thinks of me as a sister, Potter. Not me."

"P-Please, Hermione..."

"What, Harry?" Hermione reached out and gently stroked a single finger from base to tip, smiling to herself as he moaned. "Still think of me as a sister?"

"No..."

"Good, otherwise you'd be sick in the head." Hermione said, wrapping a hand around Harry's tool and giving one firm stroke, before releasing him. "Harry?"

Slowly, he looked up, a look of agonised frustration on his face.

"If I was your sister, Potter, you wouldn't be wanting to bury this cock in me, would you?"

He shook his head quickly.

"If I was your sister, you wouldn't be sniffing my panties like you are, would you?"

Another shake of the head.

"If I climb on top of you and let my pussy swallow this cock..." She smiled at him as his eyes, somehow, widened even more, "you'd want that?"

His nodding was _emphatic_.

"Then tell me, Harry. Tell me that you want to fuck me. Tell me that you want to feel my pussy wrapped round your cock and cum on you."

"Please, Hermione!" Harry cried out.

"Please what, Harry?"

"Please fuck me!" He near-demanded.

"Thank you." Hermione quickly moved forward, raising herself up, positioning Harry's cock between her lips and dropping down, feeling her pussy swallow him completely. "Ooh..."

Harry's cock wasn't gargantuan. He was about eight inches long, not superhuman and certainly respectable, but he was _monstrously_ thick. A thick cock and a tight, virgin kitty on a fairly slender girl meant two things; Hermione was being stretched deliciously, and Harry was being squeezed by a velvet vice. Neither of them could even think of stopping this.

Hermione braced her knees and lifted up, before slamming herself back down. The feeling was just as intense. Again bracing herself, Hermione clenched every muscle she could as she lifted herself, before slamming back down.

"H-Hermione..." Harry gasped. "If you keep d-doing that..."

"You'll cum in me." Hermione hissed as she slammed down again. "Yes, you will... you'd better bloody cum in me, Potter!"

Closing his eyes, Harry realised several things; he didn't want this to end, and he didn't know if the rumours about teenaged recovery time would apply to him and more importantly... he didn't want to let Hermione down. As comforting as blowing his bags would be (and based on the teasing, it'd be _very_ satisfying), he knew she'd be disappointed. He began mentally chanting an incantation, one of the ones Sirius had told him about. It would delay his orgasm slightly. Not long, but hopefully enough to make Hermione have another one or two of those potently erotic orgasms.

"Come on, Harry, fuck me back!" Hermione demanded.

Harry watched for a moment, using almost all of his concentration to keep the incantation going. When he was fully inside her, he pushed his hips as far down into the mattress as he could. Hermione again squeezed him and raised herself up. Once she was at the top, he could see her preparing to slam herself down. The instant she started moving, he bucked his hips up as fast and as hard as he could, the couple slamming together with the force of a freight train.

Hermione, generously, orgasmed on the spot as Harry pounded into her. "Fuck, Harry!" She gasped, her entire pussy clenching round the invader. "Do that again!" She demanded, bracing herself for another punishing thrust.

The pair quickly fell into a rhythm; Harry thrusting up with every ounce of strength, while Hermione slammed herself down with every ounce of hers. It wasn't making love, or even having sex; it was brutal, pounding fucking, and Hermione couldn't be happier. She was finally, after so many years of fantasising, fucking Harry Potter.

"Hermione..." Harry groaned as he felt a curious, yet powerful, tingling in his balls. He knew what was coming... and the wording wasn't lost on him. "I'm gonna-"

"Not yet!" Hermione commanded. "I want one more..." Deciding that keeping him tied up at this point was quite unfair, Hermione plucked at her wand on the small bedside table. After four attempts, she finally grabbed it and silently removed his restraints.

Harry immediately lurched upwards, grabbing Hermione and kissing her as passionately as he could. For a brief moment, their rhythm was disturbed.

"No, keep going!" Hermione pleaded. "I'm so close, Harry..."

Now able to move properly, Harry grabbed her hips and dropped backwards. Hermione was able to discover that when both partners were able to co-ordinate their movements, it was so much better, as Harry was able to pull her down when he thrust up. The double sensations were driving her relentlessly onwards to cum again, and she couldn't wait. "P-Please, Harry..." She moaned.

Harry's left hand detached from her hip, reaching up to pluck at her right nipple, just as he'd seen her doing. Instead of just tugging, he gave the nipple a little pinch, before rolling it between the tip of his finger and thumb.

"Fuck!" Hermione screeched as this was enough to make her cum. Her pussy contracted even tighter on Harry's abused Hampton, making him gasp out his own orgasm. A spurt of hot fluid made him keen loudly, squeezing Hermione's nipple and hip firmly.

Hermione, not wanting this one to end, moved up slightly and thrust back down, pitiful compared to what they'd been doing seconds earlier, but enough to make them both moan loudly. She could feel his spunk shooting into her, and was momentarily surprised by just how warm it was. She knew, academically, that it'd be warm, but those books hadn't prepared her for the actual feeling of a blast of semen painting her insides... She sighed happily as she slumped forward onto Harry's chest, feeling his arms instinctively wrap around her.

Harry looked up, seeing nothing but Hermione's bushy hair (on her head, this time,) and felt contentment. However, he'd received the answer to one of his questions; did he have standard teenage stamina? The answer was, 'yes'. He hadn't lost his erection, even though he'd pumped what felt like a gallon of his little swimmers into Hermione.

"Hermione?" He whispered quietly.

"Mmm?" Hermione moaned softly.

"We're not done yet."

Hermione slowly, almost painfully, lifted her head up. "What?"

Keeping his grip, Harry rolled them over so her was on top. "We've not finished yet."

She just blinked in post-coital confusion as he levered himself upright, and gently grasped her shoulder and hip. Hermione yelped as she found herself being rolled over, and Harry's strong hands had taken a firm grip on her hips. He was pulling gently. _What the hell's he doing?_ She wondered groggily, and allowed herself to be lifted. Harry's knee gently pressed at the back of her thigh. _Oh... he wants me on my hands and knees... why?_

As if in answer to her silent question, Harry spoke. "You were being such a bitch to me, Hermione..." he growled, "I thought you might like it doggy style." He released her hips, gently pulling her thighs apart before she felt the monstrous head pressing against her opening.

"Oh, god..." She whimpered. _He hasn't gone soft... he's gonna fuck me again... doggy style... what's the point of-_ Her musing was cut off as Harry smoothly sheathed himself inside her again, all the way. She could feel his little head rubbing her g-spot, something that hadn't happened the first time, and she could feel another orgasm starting.

Feeling impish, Hermione pushed up with her hands, just enough so she was properly on hands and knees, and looked over her shoulder at him. "Woof..." She said.

"Stop it..." Harry grunted as he pulled back, then thrust forward again.

Hermione let out a small bark as her orgasm ripped through her. She hadn't planned on making that noise, but the moment made her giggle, which was abruptly cut off as Harry again thrust into her.

"Fuck..." She gasped, feeling that delicious rubbing yet again.

"Don't bark, Hermione..." Harry near-shouted. "Just... god..."

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione cajoled, thrusting backward as he thrust forward, moaning as their hips connected with a 'slap' sound. "Fuck me... make me scream!"

Deciding to take this instruction as literal, Harry licked thumb and forefinger, and reached round her hip, almost instinctively homing in on her clit. Hermione gasped loudly as Harry began to caress it, before pressing down and swirling his finger round. All the while, he kept up that brutally enjoyable pounding on her delicate bits.

Hermione screamed seven seconds later as her crotch erupted in fire. It felt like she was burning up as her orgasm made her arms and legs buckle, but Harry's free arm had quickly snaked under her hips, holding her up.

"Oh god..." She groaned. "Harry, cum in me!" She cried out. "Please, Harry, cum in me!"

Harry wasn't sure if she was either cum-hungry (he hoped she was) or was getting sore/tired (he hoped like bloody hell she wasn't), but he was still a bit away from cumming again. "No... not yet." He gasped out as he abused her poor little kitty.

"I... I... Harry!" Hermione screamed hoarsely as she came again, her pussy contracting painfully on Harry's cock, but he still kept going.

At this rate, he wouldn't be able to last too much longer, but he honestly didn't know if this would happen again, and if it didn't, well... he wanted to make certain that he enjoyed this one. He doubled his pace, wanting to go out in a blaze of glory.

Again, Hermione cried out as her abused body had yet another orgasm. This long screwing session was definitely getting to her. She estimated she had one more before she curled into the foetal position and cried.

"Hermione..." Harry whimpered, feeling his abused organ get ready for another spitting session.

"P-Please, H-Harry..." Hermione gasped. "P-Please f-f-finish..."

Harry roared in combination pain/pleasure as he finally let go. It felt like he was cumming molten lava, but there was enough ecstasy to cancel out the pain. He slumped forward onto Hermione, slipping out of her pussy and nearly crying as the cooler air hit his friction burns. Using the last of his energy, he rolled to the side, slumping on the bed next to her.

"Bloody hell..." Hermione moaned.

"You... you okay?" Harry asked through his pants.

"Just about..." Hermione said, slowly turning herself until she was on her side and facing him. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you still see me as a sister?"

Harry looked faintly nauseated. "No..."

"Will you stay with me?" She asked, looking shyly at him. Now the act was over, she felt like she had no courage left.

"And leave... an epic shag like you?" Harry said, grinning. "Just as long as you don't tie me up again, and _don't fucking bark..._ I think we'll do quite well together."

Hermione nodded as she slumped forwards, resting her head on his chest. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you, you know."

"I..."

She reached up with a trembling hand, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't say anything until you're sure, Harry. Just... just hold me. Tell me we'll get through this war, together. Tell me we can talk about this when You-Know-Who's dead."

"We will." Harry promised. "You know I already love you, Hermione... certainly not like a sister... but romantic love... I just-"

"Harry, shut up. I'm tired. You wore me out. We'll talk later."

"Okay..."

Hermione snuggled closer.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"What happens if Ron wakes up?"

One eye lazily drifted open. "Fuck him. He made his choice when he ran off and abandoned us."

"I'd rather not fuck him." Harry replied dryly. "And I'd rather not show him my red and raw knob at the moment."

Arm flailing, Hermione reached up for her wand. She aimed in Ron's general direction and cast multiple _Stupefy_ spells. "That should hold him 'til we wake up."

Dropping her wand back, Hermione again snuggled next to Harry.

"Hermione?"

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Hermione groaned. "Don't you know what post-coital bliss is?"

"I've heard of it."

"It's where we reflect _quietly_ on what we've just done." She lifted her head a fraction of an inch. "Being a bloke, you're supposed to immediately start snoring. I'm knackered, Harry. Let me sleep."

"One thing before you do?"

"What?" The whine in Hermione's voice made Harry smile.

"Are we gonna do this again?"

"In the morning." Hermione promised. "Every morning, Harry. Now sleep, you gormless tit. I'm tired." Thirty seconds later, Hermione let out an enormous snore.

"Oh... this'll be fun."


	15. Open Wide the Gates of Time: Normal Life

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.

* * *

Harry Potter stepped into the ritual chamber, wincing as he felt the battered muscles on his leg protest. He sank gratefully into the chair his wife had thoughtfully provided for just this sort of occasion. Speaking of his wife...

"If you say a single word, I'll surgically remove your testicles and push one up each of your nostrils." Hermione Potter said firmly as she tapped buttons furiously on her computer. "I'm busy."

Knowing that his wife didn't make idle threats, Harry sat in absolute silence as she finished tapping away. It took the better part of an hour, but Harry was grateful for the quiet.

Finally, she finished, and span round in her chair. "Hey, honey." She said sweetly. "How're things?"

"Fine." Harry replied bluntly. "Managed to avoid the latest hunter squads and got us some more provisions. Enough to last a month."

Hermione shook her head dismissively. "Won't need that long. By my calculations, I've pretty much finished. We'll need four days to charge everything, then we can go."

Harry sighed. "You're sure this'll work?"

With a tiny shrug, Hermione nodded vaguely. "Well... As sure as I can be, considering what we're talking about, Harry. I mean... There aren't any records of _anyone_ attempting to do this."

"There wouldn't be, though, would there? I mean, if someone did manage to change the past, time would be rewritten to assimilate the attempt." Harry pointed out reasonably.

Hermione nodded. "I suppose..." She sighed. "I just wish we could have some definite proof. It's all well and good to announce that you're going to 'Open Wide the Gates of Time', but I'd prefer a bit more concrete data."

"Hermione, my sweet, beautiful love, it's _you_. With the exception of that cheese soufflé, you've never failed at _anything_."

Predictably, her eyes narrowed at the mention of her culinary disaster. "Just had to bring that up, didn't you?" She muttered sulkily. "Don't you remember the motto?"

Nodding, Harry said, "Of course... It's only a shame the bloody purebloods didn't bother to learn that you never tickle a sleeping dragon. Otherwise, this whole blasted Muggle War wouldn't have started."

Together, the two sighed in unison at the shitty state of the world they lived in... although, it wouldn't be for too much longer. If their calculations were correct, and as Harry pointed out, it was _Hermione_ who had made those calculations, they'd be leaving the shattered remnants of this Earth and this timeline, and heading back into the past. A past where they could, and _would_, be making a difference.

So many things had gone wrong with the world in the last thirty-odd years. Ever since the pair had started at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the world had begun on a downward spiral. Voldemort had been destroyed by Harry, Hermione and... the other. However, the circumstances that had created Voldemort had never been changed. Wizarding England was a lush breeding ground for Dark wizards and prejudiced bigots. Voldemort had fallen, only to be replaced by Lucius Malfoy, who'd begun the most extreme Eugenics program in the history of magic. When he'd been deposed, by the remarkable Potters, his son had taken up his banner... only to lead to the current circumstances.

Lord Malfoy had declared war on the non-magical world, which had resulted in the entire planet being made aware of the wizards... and promptly deciding to attack them. The results were horrifically predictable. Seven billion non-magical against just over four million magical.

Hunter squads now roamed most of the world, looking for any trace of those who used magic. Once they were found, they were forcibly sterilised before they were 'debriefed'. In most cases, the unlucky witch or wizard died within a couple of months. There were rumours that Neville Longbottom had managed to survive for four entire years, undergoing multiple torture sessions per day. He'd never broken, and had almost replaced Harry as the 'wizard I wanna be when I grow up'... Not that there were many children left.

Hermione, brightest witch of her generation, had initially been shocked when Harry had come to her and told her that he wanted to Open Wide the Gates of Time, but her fine mind immediately grasped the basic premise: "We go back... we put right what once went wrong... we have a _normal life_.' The prospect was simply too appealing for her to ignore.

Her fine mind began working on the problem, using supplies and resources that Harry could scavenge. It'd taken the better part of nine years of hard work, but everything was complete. They had food, supplies and weapons all ready to take back with them. They had the tools and the talent. All they needed was a time and a place to get to, and a shitload of raw magical power to 'open the gates'.

The initial results of the project had opened temporal portals, but those portals were too unstable to allow matter to transfer through. Energy could pass through the portal with no problems, but since Harry and Hermione were flesh and blood, it couldn't work for them. And the portals they created were so small, it wouldn't allow anything bigger than an amoeba to pass through.

However... since energy _could_ pass through the portal, and the duo needed a massive amount of power to create their own portal, Hermione came up with a more-than-wrong procedure; using the chronometric targeting scanners, they could accurately detect the femtosecond when a witch or wizard died... and transferred their magic to the storage batteries. They'd stolen the powers of thousands of witches and wizards, but they'd managed to get everything prepared for the main jump.

And now, they were prepared. The hall was rented... the orchestra engaged. All that was left was to see if they could dance.

* * *

#4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. #16 Austen Way, Crawley, London. Two perfectly normal houses, on perfectly normal streets, in perfectly normal neighbourhoods. However, these two perfectly normal houses had one thing in common: inside each of them, massive chronometric waves were distorting the fabric of space and time.

In Austen Way, a single figure stepped into the room, spotted the young girl, and merged with the body. Since the two females were identical in every respect, except for the obvious temporal aspect, an ansible effect occurred, mixing the two together. The result appeared to be an eleven year old girl with big teeth and bushy hair. The _actual_ result was the second most powerful magic user on the planet, with a life experience of decades, an intellect that would have scared Einstein and a sexual drive that would make even Casanova drop to his knees in worship... and exhaustion.

At the same time in Privet Drive, the entire house groaned as another figure appeared in a small storage area, phasing into a tiny boy, lying on a cot mattress in a dirty cupboard. The Chosen had arrived into his new time...

Harry blinked as his pain-ravaged body began to reboot. He glanced around the cupboard and grimaced. Christ, how he _hated_ being in here. The first time around, he'd come to enjoy the solitude his cupboard gave him, but now he knew better, he was appalled that the Dursleys could do this to anyone, never mind a blood relative. With a frustrated sigh, he glanced at the lock on the door, dispelling it into its component atoms with the barest hint of a thought. He stepped out and stretched, feeling his magic begin to work on obliterating ten years of neglect.

While stretching, he raised his left arm to just above his face, and breathed lightly on his wrist. A pale yellow light came out of his mouth, circling his wrist and fading away. A green gem with a silver strap formed, looking like some kind of combination charm bracelet/watch. Holding a finger over the gem, he called out with his mind.

_Calling all sex goddesses!_

A moment later, a vaguely amused voice replied inside his head. _There's only me here, Harry love. At the moment, I don't think this body qualifies as a sex goddess._

_I don't think you could ever be anything _but_, sweetie._

_I'm wearing 'Forever Friends' panties, Harry._ Hermione's mental 'voice' sounded embarrassed. _Jesus, I loathe 'Forever Friends'... it's only because Mum thinks they're cute that I have to wear them._

Harry glanced around, deciding to make himself a coffee before he departed from the Dursleys. He put the kettle on to boil before grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. _I'm putting the kettle on, hon, if you want a coffee._

Without the faintest hint of a sound, Hermione was stood by his side. Soundless apparition came exceptionally easy to the two of them, and Dumbledore's anti-apparition wards were so full of holes, they were useless.

"Are you _sure_ you don't wanna say 'goodbye' to the bastards upstairs?" Hermione asked, not bothering to keep her voice down.

"I can wait." Harry said innocently as he added milk to both cups. "I'd much rather do it when I'm seventeen, love. Watching them squirm as I take their house, their jobs and every scrap of money from them..." He shivered in anticipation. "Good times..."

Hermione grabbed the sugar bowl and gave them two spoons each. "So, where to first?"

Glancing at the clock, Harry thought for a moment. "Well... it's nearly eleven now. Give it an hour or so, then we can start with those bloody Horcruxes. The Gaunt shack, then Grimmauld. Leave Malfoy Manor for the last one out in the open."

The grin on Hermione's face was nearly feral. "I will admit, I'm looking forward to that one."

"Minx." Harry said fondly. "Then to Gringotts to get the cup. We'll kill those first, and hopefully get the one out of my head. If we've got time, we can go to Hogwarts, grab the diadem, steal the old man's wand and kill that bloody basilisk."

Hermione finished stirring the coffee, passing a cup to Harry and taking a slurp of her own. "Busy night, Harry."

"True." Harry ignored the 'it'll stunt your growth!' thoughts as he drank his coffee. "Still, it took Dumbledore six years to get that far, and even then the silly twat almost died because of it."

Enjoying the prospect of the manipulative old man dying for just a moment, the pre-teens shook their heads in unison as they focussed on the here and now. "So... we're gonna destroy the old man's plan in one night? I like it."

"Yeah, me, too." Harry replied. "Also, on that trip to Gringotts, I think we should do a spot of... housekeeping."

Hermione snorted. "That's gonna throw the cat amongst the pigeons, Harry. Are you sure you don't just wanna take it? I mean, while we've got all the proof that they've been stealing from you, and forwarding your gold and legacy to others, it'll create a shitstorm of global proportions. Doing it through 'proper channels', while the 'right' thing to do, is gonna be very messy. It'd be a whole lot easier just to nick the lot of it."

Harry chuckled. "I never thought I'd hear the day when Hermione Grang-"

"Potter." She interrupted.

"Hermione Potter," Harry continued seamlessly, "would advocate theft. And what is it Dumbledore always says? 'Do what is right, rather than what is easy'."

"Well, Dumbledore's a bloody idiot."

With a slight nod, Harry sighed. "They're hateful little shits, Hermione. Since they've nicked over half of my estate, they've got more than enough money to pay bribes to the right people, and you just _know_ that Dumbledore will be all forgiving." He closed his eyes, before changing his voice to a familiar and very irritating voice. "'Harry, I know that the goblins have stolen from you, but you must learn to forgive others for their transgressions. You have more than enough money to live on... would you really begrudge the goblins, a race who have a history of being bloodthirsty warriors, the chance to earn a little gold?'" Harry coughed and took a quick slurp of coffee. "Yeah, I would actually, old man. No, we do it through the channels. Threaten them and if they don't comply, simply destroy them."

She nodded for a moment. "That was a very good impression." Hermione said absently as she glanced around the kitchen. "DFI: Did you clean in here?"

"Yeah."

"It's very..." She glanced up at him. "How can you live in a house like this? It's like a show house. The decorating is simply dreadful, and the photos of pigs on the wall are very unclassy."

Harry snorted. "Those aren't pigs; they're Dudley. Actually, come to think of it..." He trailed off as the two laughed together. "Come on, love... lots to do. Race you to Hogsmeade!" He vanished in a trail of silent white smoke, a second column forming a second later.

* * *

Hagrid staggered out of the Hogs Head, deciding to drain the tanks before beginning the walk back to his hut on the grounds of Hogwarts. Making his way to the side of the pub, he undid the button on his trousers, hauling out his... He blinked as he spotted a couple of people apparating into the middle of the street.

Even though he hadn't seen Harry Potter since he was a tiny tyke in a blue blanket, he could almost instantly recognise the boy who'd just appeared. It helped that the boy was the spitting image of his father. The young girl who was with him, Hagrid didn't know, but she was clad in a white nightgown. Or rather, she _was_. The clothing rippled for a moment, before changing into skin-tight black clothing.

Even though Hagrid was half-giant, and thereby restricted from doing many 'normal' things, he'd been to many places in the world in his long life. He'd seen the Muggle Army at the end of the Second World War and he'd seen Special Ops forces as they prepared to head off to various missions. He recognised the clothing as combats fatigues, before the pair vanished again.

He knew he should report this to Dumbledore, but the pressure in his bladder certainly took a higher priority. While draining the main vein, a thought overcame him; how did Harry know how to apparate? And why was he leaving his family's house at this late hour? And why did he look so damned small?

Shaking once (and making sure to add the follow-up jiggle), Hagrid tucked himself away before fastening his fly, and beginning his walk back. Maybe a brief excursion to Surrey in the not-too-distant future would be in order.

Of course, many things change when the Gates of Time are opened. And in the case of all drunks, the instant his head hit the pillow, Hagrid forgot all about Harry Potter and the girl.

* * *

Harry appeared in the middle of a graveyard, his once and future wife appearing by his side. Instantly, she stepped backwards and turned, quickly moving back-to-back with Harry as they scanned the area for any threats.

"Clear." She commented after a moment.

"Clear." Harry confirmed, before he began walking to a tall angel statue. "It's this one, Hermione."

In another time and another place, Hermione Granger would no doubt have been horrified at the prospect of grave robbing. But in _this_ time and _this_ place, she didn't give a shite. "Okay, dig 'em up." She commanded gently. "I'll start the FiendFyre."

As Harry summoned the skeleton from the grave, the bones began to smoke before bursting into flame. FiendFyre had once been described as 'the power of the sun... in the palm of my hand'. When faced with mere calcium and marrow, the bones quickly lost as they were obliterated.

"Step one complete." Hermione reported as she banked out the flames. There wasn't even ash. "You're up, love."

Harry began stalking through the graveyard, looking like a wraith as he stepped in-between markers and headstones. They passed through a gap in the wall, spotting what could charitably be described as 'a hovel'. Harry stopped just by the edge of the property, before closing his eyes and extending his hands. Instantly, a shimmering wall of black light became visible to the human eye.

"Class-2 intent ward. Designed to make anyone sick if they intend harm to the contents of the property." Harry commented as he popped the ward like a bubble. "Some kind of Confundus charm on the house... yeah, that's shite. Anyone with half a brain's gonna be wondering why they're stood outside this shithole if they suddenly get confused, aren't they?" The charm up and vanished like a fart in the wind at Harry's casual thought.

Another ward appeared, glowing a pale yellow. "And this appears to be some kind of flesh-rotting curse... keyed to a Parseltongue pass phrase."

"Do you know what it is?" Hermione asked.

"Nope." Harry replied casually. "Doesn't matter, though, since..." As he spoke, the ward blinked for a moment before dissipating into sparkles. "And that's the outside done. From what the old bastard told me, there's some kind of curse on the door, which..." The door simply vanished as a ludicrously powerful _Evanesco_ charm removed it from reality, "also doesn't matter. Last thing is the protections on the ring. Another flesh-rotting curse on the ring itself. If memory serves, an Egyptian-based spell."

Hermione was already striding forward, passing through the now-empty doorway. "Yeah... I can practically smell it. Did Dumbledore's hand smell like this?"

Harry was beside her in a heartbeat, and he took a deep breath. "Yeah, pretty much. That's why he kept carrying all those lemon drops. He hoped they'd mask the stench." Shrugging slightly, Harry stepped forward, kneeling down in front of an unremarkable patch of floor. With a casual wave of his hand, _something_ began burrowing up from the dirt.

Pulling on a conjured dragon-hide glove, ignoring the simple fact that the vast majority of witches and wizards couldn't conjure something as complex and magical as dragon-hide, Hermione plucked the box from the floor, before opening it. Instantly, she could feel the compulsion to put the ring on wash over her, but her Occlumency was arguably the best in the world, matched only by that of her husband.

Taking the ring from the box, Hermione held out her hand, the ring sitting innocently in her palm, to Harry, who placed his above. Together, the two summoned as much of their power and cast a simple _Finite Incantatum_ at the ring, dispelling the rotting curse and the compulsion charm.

"You know... it's rather scary just how easy this is." Harry noted as he plucked the ring from her palm and casually put it into his pocket.

"Years of training and planning." Hermione replied. "So, one down, couple more to go."

"Yep."

Hermione followed her husband out of the shack before sealing the property and casting another blob of FiendFyre, while Harry created a containment ward around the property, making certain the potent fire wouldn't escape. While the fire burned merrily, Hermione asked the next question: "So... Grimmauld Place?"

"Yep."

Linking hands, the two vanished.

* * *

The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was appropriately named. The property was like a black hole, sucking in happiness and positive energy, while radiating evil and malice. As the two pre-teens appeared outside, the house began to feel threatened, sending notification to the occupants that danger was rapidly approaching.

"Standard snatch, grab and evade?" Hermione asked.

"Not quite." Harry said, stepping onto the stoop of the dark house. "Kreacher'll be inside here, and the demented little shit will no doubt try and kill us."

"Joy..."

"Your choice, love; Obliviate or terminate."

It took Hermione a few moments to come to a decision, remembering just how evil the loathsome little cockroach could be. "I suppose... Obliviate. Wipe his mind and let him free."

Harry smirked at her. "Yes... if you insist."

"Stop smirking, Harry." Hermione scolded.

"It's just that it took you _so_ long to decide." Harry said as he blasted the door inwards, raising a shield against the flight of poisoned arrows the house sent in response.

"It's a difficult decision." She replied defensively as she began pushing the shield into the house, ignoring the shrieking of the portrait in the hallway. "Technically, it's wrong to kill him, but he _did_ commit a wide variety of crimes."

A chuckle from Harry destroyed a Boggart that tried to attack the pair from the kitchen, before a high-powered piercing charm nailed an angry doxy. "Yes, I know. Speaking of the little shitball, where is he?"

Hermione glanced around, spotting a pair of malevolent yellow eyes watching from the landing at the top of the stairs. "Up high, 2 o'clock." She commented, a tiny movement of her pinky finger freezing the elf in place, before a slight flick of her wrist destroyed his mind completely. "And he has _left_ the building!" She said loudly, ducking as a grandfather clock on the wall emitted a spray of acid. "That'll leave a mark."

In the meantime, Harry had been forced to conjure a bubble around a cloud of poison that one of the elf heads nailed to the wall had breathed over them. "I'd forgotten how much this house hates people." He said absently. "Ironic thing in a house, really..."

Entering the drawing room, Hermione cast an _Immobulus_, freezing the doxies and puffskeins in place, before opening the display case with a wave of her hand. Harry plucked the dragon-hide glove from Hermione's waistband before grabbing the locket. Another _Finite_ removed the compulsion charm, before it joined the ring in Harry's pocket.

"Two down, more to go." Harry said. "Let's set standard crash and burn exit."

The house began to burn as another dose of FiendFyre erupted, the shield around the house protecting the rest of Grimmauld Place from destruction. The two apparated away, not caring if Kreacher lived or died.

* * *

In the Ministry of Magic, an alarm sounded as a massive magical event was recorded. In the Office of Underage Magic, there were no reports being generated, but the Trace Room was practically erupting. Someone, and there was no record of this magical signature anywhere on file, had set FiendFyre. The observers quickly localised the event, before notifying the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who sent out a six-man Auror squad to apprehend the idiot playing with forces best left alone.

It was unfortunate for the DMLE that when they arrive in Little Hangleton, there was nothing but the smouldering remains of some kind of outhouse. They performed a series of standard checks with their usual efficiency, meaning they missed the faint traces of apparition energy, before returning to Headquarters... only to be sent to the middle of London where, they were hurriedly told, there was a house in the middle of a Muggle street ablaze.

Arriving in front of an inferno, the Aurors could do little to penetrate the shield Harry had left. One of the Aurors, one of the very few witches in the whole of the UK with an ounce of logic, quickly determined that if the shield was keeping them out, there was a good chance it would keep the fire in. One of the younger wizards, sadly, not one blessed with the ounce of logic, decided that it would be better to break the shield and see if they could combat the blaze.

Fortunately for the other residents of Grimmauld Place, the young fool was overridden as the fire burned itself out.

* * *

While the Aurors were bungling their way around the country, Harry and Hermione had made their way to a pretentious manor in the south of Cambridgeshire. Hermione in particular had memories of this place. It was here, after all, that she'd been tortured by the Malfoy family for hours before Harry and _him_ had managed to rescue her.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Harry asked, glancing at his young lover.

"Yep."

"You know it's dangerous."

"It is."

"You know it could _really_ piss them off. Hell, it probably _will_ really piss them off."

"Oh, yes."

"And you still wanna do it?"

"Hell yes."

With a sigh, Harry raised his hand, beginning a long incantation in his mind. Human to other species transfiguration was understandably rare, since it could go wrong in so many different ways, the most notable of which was the witch or wizard in question would not be able to change back. Fortunately, both Harry and Hermione was among the most accomplished magic users in the world, and the transfiguration, while complex and lengthy, was not dangerous... mostly.

Hermione's body began to decay, her skin turning almost black as her hair vanished. Her bone structure changed, increasing her height by nearly three feet as her combat fatigues changed into a hooded cloak. As her feet disappeared, she raised slightly into the air, floating a foot above the ground. Hermione Potter nee Granger was now a Dementor.

Harry quickly completed the change on himself, noting that transfiguring himself into a Dementor had one distinct advantage; he no longer felt the cold. In fact, he found it entirely comfortable feeling Hermione's chilling aura, and he instinctively knew that to move too far away from her would result in becoming overheated very quickly. It explained why the Dementors particularly enjoyed the frigid and damp climate at Azkaban Island.

Together, the two transfigured Dementors approached the outer edge of the Malfoy family wards, using their enhanced senses to pinpoint the weaknesses.

_The outer wards are fairly weak._ Hermione's voice said in his mind. _Most of them are set up for warnings._

_Since it's the Malfoys, they probably don't know the Patronus._ Harry replied, his instinctive knowledge telling him that the two were vulnerable to those charms while in this form. _Maybe we should leave the outer wards alone._

_No._ Hermione turned to near-glare at Harry. _I want them down. I want them to know we're coming. And I want them to know true fear._

Harry sighed, exhaling a cloud of frozen air. _As you wish._ Raising a hand, a beam of pure mana splashed onto the outer ward, forming a bright green sparkle in the air as the two magicks battled for dominance.

_I've got control of the outer warning ward. Activating all alarms._ Harry reported.

While Harry was activating the alarms, Hermione poked her hand through one of the small hole, inverting the detection ward so that it scanned inwards. This had a double impact; it prevented the household from knowing what was attacking, and allowed the attackers to see inside.

_Three humans are moving._ She reported. _Their magical signatures have just doubled. They've each grabbed a wand. Hmm... Draco's casting a Lumos spell._ Hermione's demonic visage smiled evilly. _I've just activated a tracking charm to the DMLE. They'll get an announcement that underage magic's just been used in about thirty seconds._

Harry the Dementor raised a hairless eyebrow. _Ironic... and appropriate. I'm tapping into the travel wards._ A bare second later, he sent, _anti-apparition has been re-routed inwards. Floo grates are shut down. Portkeys have been routed to the lawn just in front of us. You ready for the next bit?_

"Yes..." Hermione's voice sounded wrong coming from the Dementor's throat. _I've just stunned the house elves. It's all yours, lover..._

Harry passed through the wards like a hot knife through butter, and he sailed through the air with frightening grace. He waved his hand at the main doors, sending them crashing inside.

_Incoming!_ Hermione warned. _Based on the size, it's Lucky. Make sure he isn't, darling._

Focussing on the blonde, Harry magnified the unholy power of the Dementor, sending Lucius skidding to his knees as his mind became awash with his terrors. _Wouldn't it be ironic if he was kissed?_

_Well, _I'm_ not kissing him!_ Hermione sent back indignantly. _Even as a Dementor, I have standards, Harry._

Chuckling silently, Harry passed by Lucius, heading into the drawing room and vanishing the carpet, spotting the poorly-concealed doorway to the Dark Arts cache. The Horcrux was pulsing angrily as it felt the presence of two more of the vile creations. The Horcrux rose from the floor, the compulsion charm vanishing at Harry's will. _I've got it._

Hermione sent back a mental caress in acknowledgement, as she tore a large hole in the wards, enough to allow a team of Aurors through. _I'm gonna set the roof ablaze, Harry. Should be enough to summon _someone_ from the DMLE through. Combined with the underage magic warning, and... oh..._ Hermione trailed off as she spotted something unexpected approaching her. _Harry, are you still inside?_

_Yes. Just making my way through the front doors now. Why?_

Glancing at an exact replica of herself, Hermione sent, _Because there's a Dementor staring at me._

Harry accelerated to his maximum speed as he raced towards the hole in the wards. Indeed, there were two Dementors hovering just at the edges. _Are you okay?_

_So far, yeah..._

_**You have taken our form.**_ A third, impossibly ancient voice sounded in both of their minds, making the two flinch.

Harry redoubled his efforts, feeling like he was running flat out. Hoping to buy some more time to get to Hermione, since he couldn't use his own Patronus in this form, he quickly sent a reply. _It was a disguise._ He shouted mentally. _We meant no offence to you or your race._

_**Why are you here? **_The Dementor asked.

It was Hermione's turn to answer. _We are stopping a terrorist from unleashing a vile plot against innocents._

The Dementor stared at Hermione for a moment, before shifting round slightly to look at the desperately moving Harry. _**You serve justice?**_

_We do._ Harry said, followed a second later by Hermione. _We meant no offence to you-_

_**Stop.**_ The Dementor commanded, holding up his hand. _**The race you call 'Dementors' are the guardians of the hellpits. We keep those who have sinned in their penance. We will allow this farce as you are committing justice, but you cannot use our forms again.**_

_A__g__r__e__e__d__!_ The two teens sent as one.

_**Why do you carry three souls?**_ The Dementor asked.

_Three..._ Harry blinked. _Oh! The Horcruxes... they contain the soul of the one who called himself Voldemort. The soul has been split. We aim to destroy it._

_**I will take it as penance.**_ The Dementor said firmly, holding out one blackened and scaled hand. _**The price of you using our form and power. The four fragments you carry will be ours.**_

Hermione blinked as her form returned to that of an eleven year old girl. "You can remove the fragment from Harry's head?"

_**Yes.**_

Harry finally got to Hermione and changed his own form back. "And you'll leave my soul alone?"

The reply sounded almost... sulky. _**Yes. I will only take the abomination.**_

Hermione glanced at Harry with an indecipherable look on her face. "You could always take Lucius Malfoy as well..."

The Dementor started at her for a moment. _**He has not been sentenced to a crime.**_

"Of course not." Hermione scoffed. "He bought his way out of it. Had he faced a trial, you would have been feasting on his soul over ten years ago."

Slowly, the Dementor scanned her words for truth, before nodding slightly. _**It will be as you say. I cannot take the woman or child. While both are evil, they have not committed crimes enough to be taken by us.**_

"We can live with that." Harry said. "There is, however, something more that we need to talk about."

The Dementor's head cocked for a moment, and Hermione had a silly image of a hellhound puppy being told to stop peeing on the carpet. She quickly banished the image from her mind. _**Speak.**_

"Is the last war, Voldemort approached you." Harry said firmly. "You didn't join with him, but we both know it was a very close thing."

The Dementor nodded slowly.

"Voldemort is going to die, _properly_ die, within the next two months. When that happens, if you wish to continue as the guards of Azkaban, you need to keep your noses clean. No raiding parties, no unauthorised breeding and no leaving the prison."

_**You ask much.**_

"I offer much; your race's survival." Harry said. "The ancient magicks that can destroy your race have not been lost. Rather, they've been kept in a secret location. If you turn on the Ministry, they _will_ be forced to obliterate you."

The Dementor stared for a moment. _**It will be as you say. The other soul fragments and the adult in return for our neutrality.**_

"Deal." Harry, Hermione and the Dementor all flashed as the bargain was struck. The world was knocked off course for the rest of time as the Dementors pledged loyalty to the Ministry and to justice.

Passing over the Diary, the Ring and the Locket, the Dementor pressed it's rotting lips to the artefacts, casually sucking the soul fragments out before passing them back, and lurching forward, pressing it's vile lips to Harry's scar. Unlike the last time Harry'd had a Horcrux removed, this was merely excruciating, instead of being deadly.

The Dementor pulled back, smacking it's lips slightly, before their new ally sailed forward, passing through the wards as though they didn't exist, aiming straight for the still-dazed Lucius.

Harry took Hermione's hand in preparation to apparate away, but she shook her head. "I want to see this." She said firmly. "This is justice, as horrible as it is, and we should bear witness."

The two watched as the Dementor gently took hold of Lucius' face, moving it's hooded face closer. They could see Narcissa screaming and hurling spells with all her might at the Dementor, but there was a reason such creatures were feared.

Hermione felt a wave of grim satisfaction as Lucius' body suddenly went limp as the Dementor raised itself up, and soared into the air. "Time to go." She said, waving a hand and setting the roof ablaze with FiendFyre. That would be enough to summon the Aurors, and with the damage they'd done, it was enough to forever destroy the Malfoy family.

* * *

The pair arrived back in Hogsmeade, their dark clothes allowing them to blend seamlessly into the night. "Where to next?" Hermione asked. "I'm thinking Hogwarts to get the diadem, then off to Gringotts in the morning."

"Sound plan. Probably easier than getting into Gringotts at this time of night." Harry said softly. "Jesus, I feel better. I'd forgotten just how stifling that cancerous shit was."

Taking his hand, Hermione began walking up the road towards the school. While walking, she let out a dainty yawn.

"I know." Harry said, mimicking her instantly. "It's gotta be 2am... I'm _so_ not used to this in this body."

Hermione nodded, finishing her dainty-cum-mammoth yawn. "Yeah..." She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the cobwebs. "These little bodies are used to handling this much magic, either. I feel knackered. Your place or mine?"

"Well... you have a bed." Harry pointed out. "I have a cupboard."

"Yeah, but I also have god-fearing parents who think magic's unnatural." Hermione rebutted. "Then again, you have freaks who think _you're_ unnatural. Hmm... rock... hard place..."

"Could always just kip in the Shrieking Shack." He said. "A couple of warming charms and a bit of transfiguration and it's good as new."

"True..." As they approached the gates, Hermione put her hand on the left gatepost, while Harry place his hand on the other.

"Heir's access." They said together, waiting a moment before the gates swung open soundlessly. They joined hands again and carried on walking.

* * *

The mighty doors of Hogwarts, which had stood for a thousand years against all invaders, were no match to the two pre-teens. It helped that the doors opened just enough to let them squeeze through, before closing silently.

Harry, long used to being sneaky, led Hermione through the various secret passages up to the seventh floor, pacing back and forth three times in front of the statue of Barnabus the Barmy. _I need a place to hide my Horcrux... I need a place to hide my Horcrux... I need a place to hide my Horcrux..._ On the third repetition, the solid stone wall changed into a thick wooden door, which swung open before they could touch it.

"Think Hogwarts is helping us?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Just a bit." Hermione replied, her grin equally as wide. "Not a surprise, though."

"Nah... she probably wants it out of her as much as we do." Harry said as he strode into the room, heading straight for the bust of some lost-to-time wizard. On top was a dusty diadem.

"FiendFyre?" Hermione asked.

As if in response to the question, a kiln appeared four feet to their left, a thick iron door in the front.

"Oh, yeah... she's helping." He said. "Thank you, Hogwarts."

A wave of gratitude washed over them, the semi-sentient castle sending her burgeoning feelings to the two in the only way she knew how. While most thought of Hogwarts as such a stone shell, the castle had been feeding off the ambient magic the children emitted, and was well on her way to full sentience. It would probably take another few centuries, but the children of that time would be far different to Harry and Hermione...

Tossing the priceless relic into the kiln, Hermione cast the spell while Harry slammed the door shut. Unlike the destruction of the other four Horcruxes, done by being eaten, _this_ Horcrux was being destroyed... and was less than happy about it.

From inside the kiln, the kids could hear the Horcrux screaming for help.

"_No! Release me! Please..._"

"Sorry, Tom." Harry said emotionlessly. "You've done your crime... this is your time. You must be destroyed."

"And good bloody riddance..." Hermione muttered under her breath. "Murdering bastard..."

The two watched and waited until the screaming died down, before Harry opened the door, Hermione killing the flame with a thought. Inside the kiln was a small puddle of silver liquid, slowly cooling and settling into a tatty lump.

"Shame the diadem couldn't be saved." Harry said softly.

"Meh." Hermione replied. "It was cheating, anyway. It's the sort of thing Malfoy would have used to pass his exams."

"True." Harry glanced up. "We're done here, Hogwarts. When we come back in September, we'll purge you of those who would destroy you."

The castle hummed for a moment, before retreating back to her own consciousness.

"And sleepy-bobies time." Hermione said, opening a nearly invisible door, which led to the edge of Hogsmeade.

* * *

The following morning, Harry and Hermione got up, transfigured some of the rubble in the shack into a bathroom and prepared for their next mission; Gringotts. After a reasonably filling conjured breakfast, they adopted the same policy they had the previous evening; transfiguration. It took bare seconds to turn each other into a goblin.

They apparated, landing just outside the cart tracks in the tunnels of Gringotts. Waving a long-fingered hand, Hermione summoned a cart to take them to the Lestrange vault. As the cart belted along the track, Hermione spoke for the first time in her goblin body.

"Did I mention," she said casually, "just how much I hate these carts?"

Harry, as an adrenaline junkie, just shook his head. He was having to use most of his considerable willpower to avoid whooping like a child on a roller coaster.

"Man child." Hermione scolded as she clung onto his arm for dear life. "Why can't they just use a lift like normal people?"

"They're not people." Harry pointed out as the cart began slowing. "They'll tell you that themselves."

"Still..."

As the cart finally pulled to a halt, Harry sprang out of his seat, waving his hand at the blind dragon that was guardian of this vault. The dragon immediately fell asleep, the snoring near-deafening in the relatively small cavern. Without bothering to waste time, Hermione clambered out of the cart and made a pulling gesture at the door. With a groan, it was ripped from its hinges and flung onto the cart tracks.

Harry, being a good little boy, pushed it until it fell off the tracks and fell into the bottomless cavern below. No point in causing an accident...

While Harry was being socially responsible, Hermione plucked the dragon-hide glove from her waist band and grabbed the golden cup of Helga Hufflepuff. A joint _Finite_ ended the heating curse and the replication curse, before the goblet was tucked neatly into Harry's pocket.

"We done?" Harry asked.

"We are. Let's make like the shepherd and get the flock out of here." Hermione replied, taking his hand and beginning to apparate. Unfortunately, the goblins were experts in warding, and it took almost ten seconds to push their way through the 'ancient and impenetrable' wards. As they raced through the rubber tube back to Hogsmeade, Harry cancelled the transfiguration on them, so that when they reappeared, they were just Harry and Hermione, dressed in black jeans and black t-shirts.

As soon as they materialised, Hermione took one look at them and triggered another apparition, heading back to Diagon Alley's landing zone. They still had business at Gringotts...

* * *

"What?" The goblin snapped angrily as he stared at the two younglings in front of him.

"I want to see the manager of this branch _now_." Harry repeated. "If I don't, I will take every coin the Potter family has and I will destroy this bank."

The teller growled at the presumption of a mere human, a _youngling_, threatening the noble bank of Gringotts. "Wait here!" He commanded as he scampered off to the office.

Harry leaned against the counter, looking every inch a bored patron, instead of a much older man in a child's body, threatening an entire race.

It took almost ten minutes for the teller to return with another goblin, dressed in a smart suit. Harry rolled his eyes as he glanced at Hermione. "I knew they'd try this..."

"You asked for me?" The smart goblin asked.

"No." Harry corrected sharply. "I asked for the manager of this branch, not some damned patsy. You take me to Ragnok _now_... Or I will destroy this bank. If he's not brought to me within the next two minutes, you can kiss this institution goodbye."

The smartly dressed goblin took one good look at Harry and Hermione... then began running. Even though the body was that of a child, the goblin could sense the universe of power the two wielded. It _was_ sufficient to destroy Gringotts and exterminate every last goblin.

119 seconds after the ultimatum, Ragnok skidded to a halt in front of Harry and Hermione. "What do you want, human?" The elder goblin, naturally, managed to make the word 'human' sound like an insult.

"We shall speak in private." Harry said firmly. "Your office."

Fuming, a still-panting Ragnok led the two children to his office, making discrete hand gestures at the guards. Even though he had to wear glasses, Harry had excellent peripheral vision and spotted a platoon of guards assembling behind them.

"20 at 6." Harry muttered under his breath to Hermione, who nodded almost-imperceptibly.

"Got 'em." Hermione said without moving her lips.

Once in the office, the platoon of guards 'discretely' took up a position outside the office doors, barely a second's travel time to combat. Ragnok sat behind his desk, staring at the two children with disdain. "What do you want?"

Harry took one pace forward. "I am Harry James Potter. I give you one opportunity to make right with me, or I will withdraw all my family money from this institution before I destroy it."

Ragnok's eyes narrowed. "You are a fool to come to us and threaten, human."

"Really?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "When my parents died in 1981, they left 9,871,239 Galleons, 12 Sickles and 7 Knuts in their vault. There was no-one who was authorised to enter that vault... so why is the balance just under _two_ million galleons?"

"You accuse us of theft?" Ragnok roared, jumping to his feet.

"Sit down, little man." Hermione said coolly, her voice lowering the temperature in the office by at least ten degrees.

Ragnok sat.

"Your institution has allowed Albus Dumbledore to subvert millions of galleons from my vaults. Eight _million_ galleons."

"Rubbish!" Ragnok snapped. "No goblin would _steal!_"

"Check the vault." Harry said. "You'll find there's a massive amount missing."

Summoning one of the guards from outside the door, Ragnok sent him to find the Potter account manager. The goblin, realising that there was trouble, but not necessarily from where they thought, ran as though his life depended on it.

Ragnok stared at the humans. "Tell me how you know of this deception." He commanded.

"No." Harry replied. "But I will tell you what I expect of you; you will restore the vault's balance to 9,871,239 galleons with immediate effect. By 'immediate effect', I mean within one hour. If you don't, I will stand outside your bank and tell every single person that I see that you have allowed theft from my vaults. I will also release an article in every magical newspaper on the planet, telling them of your duplicity. I will also go to the Wizengamot and declare you oath-breakers."

Ragnok paled slightly. "You would destroy us..."

"I would." Harry said firmly. "You have allowed a massive crime against me, and I don't suffer such things. You either fix your mistakes to my satisfaction or your entire race will be hunted down and destroyed like animals."

Even though the human was clearly a youngling, Ragnok could sense his power and the resolve in his words. "Until such time as your allegations are proven correct, I will do nothing."

"The clock's ticking." Hermione said, waving her hand and creating a smoky display, a countdown of 59 minutes.

"We have guarded your family's money for centuries!" Ragnok protested.

"And what a _fine_ job you've done of it." Hermione sneered. "Theft, working with wizards to steal even more... you _disgust_ me!"

Harry just stared at the clock. "You'd better tell my account manager to hurry. Time's a wastin'."

Almost on cue, another goblin entered the office, bearing a heavy time in it's arms. He looked up and saw Harry and gulped slightly, a move all three of the occupants of the office saw.

"Griphook!" Ragnok snapped. "This _human_ is declaring you a thief and an accomplice! What do you say to these allegations?"

"Lies!" Griphook protested immediately, then slammed the book onto the table, opening it and displaying the balance to the manager.

"You have a lot of nerve, human!" Ragnok snapped. "The balance of the vault is over nine million galleons!"

"The book shows that, yes." Harry agreed. "But, the guard who you sent to count the money will be getting the truth."

Griphook paled.

"When he comes back and he confirms that the balance is lower than it should be, what will you do then?" Harry said, looking politely bored.

Ragnok said nothing, just leaning back in his chair, his hands folded neatly in his lap, waiting.

The humans stared at the goblins for almost ten minutes before the out-of-breath guard came rushing back in. He leaned to Ragnok's ear and whispered something.

It was Ragnok's turn to pale again, as his normally-green skin faded to a chalky white. "Eight million galleons..." He whispered, before his face hardened and he turned to Griphook. "Speak!"

Griphook said nothing, just stared at the book, hoping that this was all a dream and he hadn't been caught.

"Where did the money go?" Ragnok demanded, reaching up to grab Griphook by the throat. "Answer, if you value your life!"

Slowly, Griphook began to choke, before he nodded. "Dum... Dumbledore..."

"Guards, seize the Dumbledore vault!" Ragnok ordered. "Get me a balance, _now!_" One of the guards ran. "Where else? _Where else?_" The elder goblin roared.

"Snape..."

"Guard, seize the Snape vault!" Another goblin ran.

"M-My vault..." Griphook admitted.

Without waiting to be told, another goblin ran.

Harry casually created a small loveseat for him and Hermione to sit down on while they waited. The smoke clock continued to tick down, now showing 46 minutes.

As the three guards came rushing back in, they each reported the balances of the vaults in question. When included with the contents of the Potter vault, it came to a shade under 8 million galleons.

"Where is the rest of the money?" Ragnok demanded.

"S-Spent..." Griphook said miserably.

Huffing, Ragnok looked at Harry. "We are able to recover most of your funds."

"No." Harry shook his head. "It was a goblin's duplicity that allowed this travesty to happen. You will have to make up the rest yourselves. And you have 44 minutes left to do so."

Ragnok growled. "That is not enough time... and why should Gringotts have to suffer?"

"Because of your incompetence." Hermione said firmly. "9,871,239 galleons. We shall forgo the twelve Sickles and seven Knuts. And you now have 43 minutes left to do this."

With another growl, Ragnok began scribbling on a piece of parchment on his desk. "It is not possible to move this sum of money in that-"

"Then find a way to make it possible." Harry interrupted. "Use that tube system to get the money back into my vault. Unlike most wizards, I do not say what I don't mean. If the money isn't there, I _will_ destroy you."

Still growling, Ragnok signalled to the guards. "Take two million galleons from the loan fund and move it into vault #687. Move it _now_."

While the guards began the rather hefty task of moving millions of galleons of gold into the correct vault, Ragnok looked at his 'guests'. "Refreshments?" He snapped.

"I wouldn't trust you not to lace it with poison." Harry replied bluntly. "And we have other business to discuss."

Ragnok just gestured impatiently.

"What is the penalty for those who steal from Gringotts?"

"Death." Ragnok said simply.

"Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore and Griphook the Goblin. I want them prosecuted to the full extent of the law."

Ragnok sighed. "We can only put the request for Dumbledore and Snape... the Wizengamot must agree to it."

"You have, under the 1183 charter, the authorisation to capture criminals, try them and execute them. You will do so on September 1st, at Hogwarts." Hermione said. "This is not a request, goblin. This is a direct order which you _will_ follow."

Knowing the two pre-teens had him over a barrel, Ragnok nodded. "What time?"

"About 8pm, during the start of team feast." Harry said, deciding this would be the best time to expose the manipulative old man. "Bring Amelia Bones with you."

"It will be as you say."

"There is more." Harry said, turning to Hermione and taking her hand. "I claim my emancipation as the last of my line." He glowed for a moment. "I am now Lord Potter."

"Yes... My Lord." Ragnok said, the words sounding painful as he spoke.

"My marriage to Hermione, the Lady Potter, will be recognised." As the words were verbalised, a pair of rings appeared, one of each of the children's hands. "For all time is Hermione the Lady Potter."

Ragnok blinked in confusion. Neither teen was old enough to marry, hell, they weren't old enough to know about their magic, and yet magic itself had declared the two as married. How? When he asked the question, he was told, "None of your business," by the children in unison.

As the clock ticked down, Ragnok became more and more antsy. As the minutes vanished, to be replaced by seconds, a breathless goblin rushed in. "It... it is... done, My Lord..."

"Excellent." Harry and Hermione stood up together. "Now, we'll go to our vault. Fetch us a cart."

The guard glanced at Ragnok, who nodded, before leading them back to the tracks at the rear of the bank.

Another hellish cart-ride later, Harry stepped into the vault with Hermione, sending the goblin to wait in the cart. Hermione conjured a trunk, opened the lid and tapped each of the interior corners. Harry waved his hand, sending a stream of thick coins into the trunk. On the lid, a balance appeared, Hermione's spell counting the gold as it was added to the trunk.

It took ten minutes to load the entire cash contents of the vault, the lid displaying 9,871,240. "They gave us one too many." Hermione said, sounding amused. "Leave that in the vault, or use it as a tip?"

"Leave it." Harry said. "I won't be accused of being a thief."

Slamming the lid, Hermione waved her hand over the trunk, before opening the lid again. Another compartment became visible, this one empty. Harry gestured to one of the blank walls, dispelling the illusion charm over the wall and revealing a single bookcase. Harry gestured, sending the top row of books into the trunk. As the books left the shelf, more appeared.

"I love your Mum's filing system." Hermione said, her eyes wide and her voice sounding husky.

"Bibliophile..." Harry muttered as he directed more and more books into the trunk.

"You know it..."

As the bookshelf revealed its last set of books, Harry turned to another seemingly blank wall, removing the illusion charm from the Potter family weapons. Swords, daggers, a crossbow and the ceremonial armour all flew into another compartment of the trunk.

"And that's... everything." Harry said as the trunk lid slammed shut and the trunk shrank down to the size of a deck of cigarettes. He glanced around the vault, resisting the urge to laugh as he saw a single golden galleon sitting in the middle of the floor. "Let's go."

Back in the cart, the two pre-teens remained silent, ignoring the glances of the guard. As it pulled up to the lobby, Harry sprang to his feet, extending a hand daintily. Hermione took the hand and stood, not even bothering to glare at the goblin, who was looking hopeful for a tip.

Arm in arm, the two walked out of Gringotts, never to return... but they would see the goblins again. Either on September the first when they came to arrest Dumbledore... or in the Wizengamot as they destroyed Gringotts forever.

* * *

The month of August passed quickly. Harry received his Hogwarts letter and sent back a politely-worded reply, acknowledging his acceptance. Hermione had sent hers back months previously, as she'd received it on her eleventh birthday, last September.

A quick and quiet shopping trip had gotten them their supplies, and while in Diagon Alley, Hermione had sent a letter to the uncaring monsters that she was forced to call 'parents', telling them that she'd found a nice, freakish wizard to stay with, and she'd never be returning. Their response wasn't surprising, and it certainly wasn't polite, but did agree to let her stay with Harry... not that they had a choice.

Finally, the last day of summer was upon them, the two spending the day packing their trunks, making certain that the Potter Family wealth was protected, and in Hermione's case, the Potter Family library. After taking a long soak in the tub, the two snuggled into bed.

"It's gonna be weird." Harry said after a few moments introspection.

"What?"

"Sleeping separately."

"As if!" Hermione scoffed. "Married students' quarters, husband of mine. No chance am I sleeping apart from you. These bodies aren't old enough for the good stuff yet, but I'm still not sleeping on a cold bed alone. And when we are old enough, Harry, my love..." She smiled as she saw his eyes darken. "Well... you remember the first time, don't you?"

Oh, did he remember the first time! "Hermione..." He moaned softly. "The spirit's willing, but the flesh is pre-pubescent... don't tease me..."

"Sorry."

"You're not."

"No, I'm not." She replied, smiling coyly. "Remember, dear, I'm ten months your senior... how do you think I feel?"

Resisting the urge to be dirty, Harry just pouted. "Minx..."

"You love me."

"I really do..."

After a moment of comforting snuggling, Hermione asked the question that had been on her mind ever since they'd Opened Wide the Gates of Time: "So, how do you wanna handle tomorrow? Discrete or flashy?"

Harry smirked evilly. "Hermione, I'm shocked that you'd need to ask that!"

"Yes, I suppose so." Hermione sighed. "You _are_ the son of a Marauder, after all."

"Yep. And I've outgrown that pesky 'embarrassed of my fame' shite, too."

"So, we're gonna make damned certain everyone knows?"

"Oh, yes."

"And it'll be massively public?"

"Indeed."

"Format?"

"Well, do you remember..."

* * *

At 10:50 the following morning, Harry grabbed his trunk, shrinking Hedwig's cage and sending her on her way, while Hermione put her cat carrier into her small handbag. She'd managed to find a kitten Crookshanks in Magical Menagerie and had bought him instantly. Joining hands, the two apparated...

...into the last compartment of the Hogwarts Express. Fortunately, the compartment was empty, allowing the two children plenty of room to stretch out. Tucking the two featherlight trunks onto the luggage rack, Harry sat down, pulling Hermione into his side.

"D'you reckon Ron'll turn up?" Hermione asked.

"If he does..." Harry sighed. "I don't know how to treat him, Hermione. After what he did... He betrayed us, and I honestly can't blame him for it."

Hermione sighed. "I know, Harry... I don't blame him, either. He was ordered to become your friend by Dumbledore, but he threw the old man's orders away... point in his favour. During the Horcrux Hunt, he gave up our location in return for his family's safety... The entire Weasley family over us... maybe we should just start fresh. With what we're planning to do, there's no danger of him betraying us."

"But any relationship between us will always be coloured by what we remember." Harry pointed out reasonably. "I think we should treat him like Seamus and Dean... buds, but no close relationship. No 'Golden Trio'..."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose you're right... Probably for the best."

Sitting uncomfortably for the moment, the two dismissed thoughts of Ron. "What about Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

Harry's smirk was back. "Well... odd thing; I might have just overheard what happened to them while I was at the Ministry, getting rid of the Resurrection Stone." He could feel Hermione's full body shudder. Any talk of the Veil of Death made her shake. "It's the safest way to get rid of it." He said softly.

"Still hate that thing..."

"I know, but it's done with. Nothing can go and get it from the Veil. It's forever out of the reach of mankind... as it should be."

"I know."

Harry pulled her close and held her until the shudders faded away. "While I was passing through the DMLE on my way out, I heard Amelia speaking to Narcissa. They've come to a 'settlement', considering that the Aurors found their cache while dealing with that 'unfortunate' incident involving Lucius. They're pretty much bankrupt. They've still got their Manor, but all their holiday property's gone, their vault was confiscated and they have to submit to weekly inspections by the Aurors. The Malfoy money won't be a threat anymore..."

The two fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, before a loud whistle sounded on the platform. "And we're off to see the wizard... the wonderful wizard of Oz..." Harry sang softly, making Hermione snort in amusement.

Less than fifteen minutes into the train ride, a head appeared in the doorway, which lit up when he spotted the occupants. It was Ron.

"Do you mind if I join you?" He asked, hauling his trunk into the compartment, without waiting for an answer. "All the other compartments are full."

"No, they're not." Harry and Hermione replied in unison.

Ron's eartips were instantly red. "Yeah, they are."

Harry stood, moved out of the door and peered in the next compartment... which was empty. "That one's empty." He said as he came back into the compartment. "Here, I'll help you move your trunk." Not even giving Ron time to think, he started lugging the trunk into the next compartment. Ron, however, woke up.

"Wait!" He began tugging on his trunk, stopping Harry from simply walking away with it. "Can't I join you?"

"You came in here and said all the other compartments are full." Hermione pointed out reasonably. "That means that you were looking for an empty compartment. There's one right there, so we'll help you into that one."

"Well... I'd rather sit with people." Ron said. "And besides, he's Harry Potter..."

"I know." Hermione said. "So what?"

Ron turned to Harry, and asked the inevitable question. "Have you got... you know... the scar?"

"Yes." Harry said coldly.

"Can I see it?"

"No."

Ron pouted. "Why not?"

"Because I don't like showing my facial disfigurement off to people." Harry replied. "That's why I have a long fringe. And you're being very rude... whoever you are."

Dropping his trunk, Ron held out his hand. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

"Charmed." Hermione drawled.

"Well... nice to meet you, Ron." Harry said, taking the now-free trunk and pulling it into the corridor. "Your compartment awaits, sir. Please, feel free to leave us alone."

Ron was looking nervous as Hermione pushed him into the corridor, holding him at bay until Harry could return to the compartment and shut the door, locking Ron out. He tugged on the door for a moment, before his shoulders slumped and he headed into the empty compartment.

"Yeah... he was sent here on Dumbledore's orders." Harry complained quietly. "Yeah, he grew out of it eventually, but at the moment, he's just a fan-boy, here on Dumbledore's command. No Trio."

"No Trio." Hermione confirmed. "Still... there's one more visit I'm expecting."

"Not Malfoy?" Harry asked, sounding in disbelief. "You're not serious?"

"Never underestimate the stupidity of fools, Harry." She replied. "Surely if you've learned anything about the Wizarding world, Harry, it's that."

"Well..."

* * *

Hermione's prediction came true two hours, fourteen minutes into the train ride. The door jiggled for a moment, before Hermione released the lock. The door opened revealing Malfoy, his ever-present bookends just behind him. Clearly, he hadn't told them about how the Malfoy estate had been decimated.

"I've heard that Harry Potter's on the train." Malfoy said with a sneer.

"I've heard that, too." Harry said.

"It's you, is it?"

"Well... if it isn't, you've just made a fool of yourself."

Malfoy scowled. "Are you Potter?"

"Yes."

It could almost have been scripted as Malfoy held out his hand. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And I can help you get to know the _right_ sort of people in the Wizarding world." He sneered at Hermione, instantly knowing that she was just a Mudblood.

"And what's the 'right sort' of person, Malfoy?" Harry asked. "You mean you?"

"Yes." Malfoy said simply.

"Didn't I hear that your family are a bunch of paupers?" Hermione asked, looking particularly vindictive and smug. "Didn't I hear that the entire Malfoy fortune was confiscated by the Ministry because of Dark Arts supplies in your house? And didn't I hear that your daddy was kissed by a Dementor?"

Malfoy's face dropped as the list was read out, before he turned a pale puce colour. "Shut your mouth, Mudblood! You know-"

He stopped speaking as Harry's fist impacted his nose, sending a spurt of blood onto the floor. "You ever call her that again, Malfoy, and I'll call you out for an honour duel to the death!" Harry snapped. "You two, take that piece of shit out of my sight!"

Crabbe and Goyle just nodded as they each grabbed an arm, nodded respectively to Hermione, before dragging Malfoy away.

"You know... I bet those two have potential." Harry said as he closed the door.

* * *

When the trolley witch came round, the two kids bought a couple of bottles of ice cold apple juice to have with the sandwiches they'd made before leaving the house. Neither of them had drunk Pumpkin Juice for years, ever since it became obvious to the hunter squads that magicals never drank anything but.

While eating their lunch, they were interrupted by a timid knock on the door. They looked up as one, both breaking into wide grins as they spotted the slightly chubby, sandy-haired boy stood outside.

"Neville..." Hermione whispered, thrilled to see one of her most loyal friends again. "Open the door, Harry."

Already doing so, Harry smiled pleasantly at the boy outside the door. "Hello, there. What can we do for you?"

Timidly, Neville recognised Harry instantly. "H-Hi, there..."

Harry waited while Neville gathered his courage. "I'm Harry." He said, holding out a hand. "This is Hermione."

"N-Neville Longb-bottom." The shaking boy replied timidly. "Have you seen my toad?"

Resisting the urge to make a pun about small, slimy creatures that like dark, warm spaces, Harry simply shook his head. "Haven't seen a toad, friend, but we'll help you look if you'd like."

"T-Thank you." Neville was rather shocked; everyone else he'd asked had basically told him to piss off. And now, the most famous person in the Wizarding world was offering to help? How... strange.

"_Locatus_..." Hermione looked up. "Sorry, Neville, what was your toad's name?"

"T-Trevor."

"_Locatus _Trevor." Hermione intoned, holding up her wand. Out of the tip came a series of numbers in smoke. "He's 26 metres that way." She said, pointing towards the front of the train. "Come on, let's go find him." Leading the way, and hearing Harry lock the compartment door on the way out, they headed down the train, stopping as the numbers counted down to zero. "Well... he should be somewhere around here..." She said, glancing around. "Must be in the toilet."

Opening the door, Hermione found Trevor resting underneath the u-bend, looking mightily pleased for an amphibian. As she picked him up, she caught a whiff of urine. "Ew... ew... ew..." Washing Trevor under the cold tap for a moment, she passed him to Neville while she dried her hands. "Wow... that's not disgusting at all, is it?" She mumbled to herself.

"Come on." Harry said, intent on returning to his compartment, with Neville in tow. However, as he passed one compartment, he froze, a slightly devious idea on his mind. He subtly pressed the green gem he still wore on his wrist. _Hermione?_

Not making any recognition, Hermione placed her right hand on her left wrist, covering the communication gem. _Yes?_

_Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones are sitting alone in the compartment to my right._

_Okay... and?_ Even though she couldn't see it, Hermione _knew_ that Harry was wearing a devilish grin.

_What do you think would happen if Neville woke up with a sleeping witch on either shoulder?_

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Probably wet himself in terror. That's not nice, Harry._

Harry didn't resist the 'rolling eye' urge. _Hermione, they're _Hufflepuffs_! You know they wouldn't make it weird on him. Hell, they'd probably enjoy it as much as he would. And you know that Susan and Hannah are great for him._

Hermione huffed slightly. _Setting up triangle relationships is a _bad_ idea, Harry._

Neville glanced at the two who'd just stopped. "Is something wrong?" He silenced himself as Harry held up his hand for a moment.

_Hermione, we both know they ended up together... and how devastated were Susan and Hannah when Neville was captured?_

"Fine." Hermione said out loud, resting her hand on the junction between Neville's neck and shoulder. He instantly collapsed into sleep.

"Vulcan neck grip." Harry said, grinning. "Let me knock out the ladies..."

* * *

Returning to their cabin after setting a monitoring charm, Hermione sat back on the bench, curling up her legs as she leaned against Harry. "If he hates us, I'll blame you." She said simply.

"Yeah, throw your husband to the wolves." Harry said.

"It was your idea."

"I know."

"So, you accept the blame."

"Fine." Harry sighed in suffering. "I'm always picked on..."

"Ah, get off the cross, build a bridge and get over it, Harry." Hermione said unsympathetically. "We're about halfway there now... three and a bit more hours and we're there. And then we destroy everything... it's gonna be fun!"

* * *

"Firs' years!" A giant voice shouted out. "Firs' years this way!"

Harry and Hermione, followed by the rest of the first years, headed across the platform to the half-giant, who was wielding a large lantern. "Right'... we'll be takin' the boats across the lake." He led them to a small, rickety wooden pier, where a small flotilla of wooden boats waited. None of them looked seaworthy to Hermione's eyes, but magic was enough to fix the flaws in the boats themselves.

The flotilla headed across the lake, the students all making the same 'ooh!' sound as they saw the shining beacon of light, all alone in the dark.

The next few minutes, heading up the stairs into the Entrance Hall and meeting McGonagall, passed quickly. Both Harry and Hermione were finishing up the final touches to their plan. After all, time was becoming limited before things came to a head.

McGonagall was giving her speech about the four houses, but Hermione knew more about Hogwarts at eleven, the first time round, than McGonagall did, and she'd been working there for thirty-five years. As she went inside to make certain everything was prepared, Harry glanced at Hermione. "We set?"

"We're set." She said lovingly. "Let's the games begin."

The door opened again, revealing the stern face of Minerva McGonagall. "We're ready for you now. Follow me."

The first years trailed after the long-legged Scotswoman, some of them having to jog to keep up with her. The other students, those second through seventh years, stared at the 'ickle firsties' as they passed, but most of them kept silent, with the first years only hearing the odd 'Mudblood' comment coming from the Slytherin table.

McGonagall, thanks to her long legs, had made it to the stage and was wielding a piece of parchment by the time the new students had caught up. "When I call your name, you will come onto the stage, sit on the stool and I will place the Sorting Hat onto your head. It will then call out where you will be placed." She glanced down at the list. "Abbot, Hannah!"

Harry watched the Sorting casually, knowing where most people would be going to, but he was sort-of surprised when Neville joined Susan and Hannah in Hufflepuff. With a tiny smile, he pressed his hand to his communicator. _Told you it would have a good effect._

Hermione scowled lightly as she pressed her gem. _No-one likes a smart-arse, Harry._

_You do._

A tiny smile was his reward. _Okay... so some people do. Just behave._

Nodding, Harry asked, _Have you noticed how you haven't been called yet?_

_I did. Why should I have been called before you, husband of mine? Alphabetically, my name comes after yours now._

And indeed, "Potter, Harry!"

Taking a step onto the stage, Harry noticed how all the faculty at the staff table suddenly began paying attention. _God, it's pathetic! 'Roll up! Roll up! See the Amazing 'Boy-Who-Lived'! One night only!'_

_Ego's never attractive, darling._ Hermione shot back, successfully hiding her amusement at Dumbledore's eagerness.

_I wish it was just ego..._ Harry grumbled as he sat down, letting the Sorting Hat be placed over his head.

_**Good evening.**_

_I don't know if it's 'good'._

_**Cheer up, sport.**_

Harry looked politely confused. _Did you just call me 'sport'? Jesus, where'd you pick up the lingo?_

_**I get sat on every child's head, every year, Mr. Potter.**_ The Hat replied smugly. _**I learn many new and interesting things... although, not many people have it **_**this**_** interesting... good lord... why are you even in this school?**_

_Because I want to. I want to know what Hogwarts is like when my life doesn't get threatened three or four times a year._

_**You want it to be boring?**_

_No... normal._

_**You never can be.**_

_I can try._

The Hat snorted into Harry's mind. _**Well... let's have a look. A fine mind, plenty of cunning and ambition, loyalty to your wife... gracious, such loyalty... and you're reckless, as Opening Wide the Gates of Time has proven... I honestly don't know where to put you.**_

_Well... I vote for Gryffindor._

_**Why?**_

_Because they have the best chairs in the common room._

The Hat was silent for almost thirty seconds, surely a record. _**You wish me to Sort you into Gryffindor simply because of the furniture?**_

_Yeah._

The Hat just shrugged. "Gryffindor!"

McGonagall lifted the Hat from Harry's head, smiling slightly as she heard her house chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" She waited until Harry had scampered to his table, making certain to keep a spot free on his right, when she glanced down at the class list. She did a double take, looking at the remaining faces, spotting the little Muggleborn girl she'd been to see last year. Yes... that was the only girl named 'Hermione', but Minerva was certain that the familial name had been different back then.

"Potter... Hermione..."

Daintily climbing onto the stage, Hermione sat on the chair, waiting for the hat to be placed on her head. She glanced up at McGonagall after a few moments, spotting the Deputy Headmistress frozen in shock. Sighing to herself, Hermione reached up and pulled the hat onto her head.

_**Hello... oh hell, another one...**_

_Good evening._

_**It was before you and your husband turned up, my lady.**_

_And it isn't now? Shame..._

_**They say sarcasm is the recourse of a weak mind.**_

_Only because 'they' can't do it properly._

The Hat snorted. _**Indeed. So, Lady Potter... will you be joining your husband in Gryffindor?**_

_Wow... whoever said 'there's no such thing as a stupid question' never met you, did they?_

_**No-one likes a smart arse, missy.**_ The Hat retorted, it's brim stretching into a wide grin. He liked her... she had spunk.

_My husband does._

_**Indeed he does. And how well suited you are. Well, you'd better be,**_ "Gryffindor!"

Hermione lifted the hat and held it out to McGonagall, who was still stood staring. Clearing her throat, Hermione pushed the hat into her hands before jumping off the stage and dashing down towards Harry.

As she sat down, Hermione became aware of the low buzz in the hall, most of them asking a simple question; "How can she be a Potter?" Others were asking more intelligent questions, like "Is she related to the 'Boy-Who-Lived'?" while Ron's "When's dinner?" made her wand to chuckle.

"Stirred up a hornets' nest." Harry said smugly. "This is gonna be fun."

"Man-child." Hermione whispered quietly. "Come on, Minnie... time's-a-wastin'."

Her brain rebooting, McGonagall glanced down at the list. "Er... Smith, Zacharias!"

While the Sorting continued, Harry glanced up at the staff table, spotting Dumbledore starring intently at him. Harry could almost feel the Legilimency probe flailing about in front of him, but as a _true_ Occlumens, Harry was undetectable to the old meddler. Hermione smirked at the Head Table, resisting the urge to start their show early.

After 'Zabini, Blaise' was Sorted into Slytherin, Dumbledore stood up, finally managing to tear his gaze away from Harry. "There is a time for speeches, and this is not it. All I will say is... Tuck in!" Clapping his hands once, all five tables in the Great Hall filled with food.

Hermione had long since gotten over her fixation on House Elves, especially after she learned just why they'd been enslaved all those centuries ago, and had, in her opinion, deserved it. After all, the St. Brice's day massacre, back in 1002, had the been work of the Low Elves, as they were then called. The leader of the race had, at the time, been given a choice; the extermination of his race, or the permanent enslavement. They'd chosen the enslavement. While slaves were against Hermione's personal beliefs, she accepted them in this situation. And they could cook a mean rack of lamb.

The meal lasted for almost an hour, the time rapidly approaching 8 o'clock. As the last traces of pudding faded away, Dumbledore stood up. "I have a few-"

"Wait." Harry called out, standing up from his bench and looking at Dumbledore. "Before you say anything, I have something to say."

"Sit down, Potter, you arrogant brat!" Snape roared from his spot on the staff table. "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

Harry shook his head. "I claim my birthright." Smirking at Hermione, he raised his left arm into the air. "By the Power of Gryffindor!" A crimson glow surrounded his hand, extending out three feet, before it coalesced into a shining silver sword.

Dumbledore's face dropped as he saw the sword appear in Harry's hand. He knew the legends surrounding the sword; only a true Gryffindor could summon the blade. He'd long suspected the Potters were the last of the Gryffindor line, but he'd never been able to get solid proof. This was most definitely it. However, while this was definitely bad news, there was a silver lining to the cloud. When Harry died facing Voldemort, Dumbledore would be able to gain the Gryffindor legacy, as well as the Potter legacy. Yes... this could indeed prove beneficial.

Hermione stood up, taking Harry's right hand in her left. "I also claim my birthright." Extending her right arm, Hermione called out, "For the Honour of Ravenclaw!" Just as Harry, a glow surrounded Hermione's fist, except this was a beautiful royal blue, before the sword appeared in her hand.

Everyone in the hall was astonished at two Founders Heirs being in their midst. It was only a shame no-one was taking notes...

"As the Hufflepuff line has died out, we, the Heirs of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, do claim that prize!" The two pre-teens said together, raising their joined hands. "With the Loyalty of Hufflepuff!" Their joined hands glowed yellow as a bastard sword, bigger and heavier than either Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's blade, formed from the light. Glancing at his watch, Harry noticed it was now exactly 8pm... and he could feel the goblins, along with a witch, enter the Entrance Hall.

"By the power of Gryffindor..." Harry began.

"Ravenclaw..." Hermione added

"And Hufflepuff, we claim Hogwarts!" The two chanted. "Seal it up!"

The sound of the main doors slamming shut quickly focussed everyone's minds to the present.

"What are you doing?" Dumbledore roared. "How _dare_ you-"

"Sit and be silent." Harry commanded imperiously. "We do not give you leave to speak." Turning to face the doors, Harry smiled at a very confused Amelia Bones, who stood watching the rather intimidating spectacle with awe. "Good evening, Director."

"G-Good evening." Amelia stammered. "What's going on?"

"As the Heirs of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, the Lady Potter and I have claimed Hogwarts. We intend to remove those who would cause harm, and we need your help to do so."

Dumbledore stalked round the staff table, his face like thunder. "What is happening here?" He demanded. "I insist that you stop this foolishness, _at once!_"

"You may insist all you like, Dumbledore." Harry said. "However, you no longer have any authority in this building. As Founders' Heirs, we have decreed that you be stripped of your position as Headmaster with immediate effect."

The old man gasped as he felt his connection to the school's wards be destroyed, and destroyed maliciously. "What have you done?" He whispered.

To answer, Ragnok, head of the Goblin nation, stepped forward, his face displaying his reluctance to be here. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you have been found guilty by the goblin tribunal of theft and conspiracy to commit theft. The penalty for these transgressions is death. Under the 1183 treaty with the Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, you are to come with us, to be sentenced to death immediately."

Dumbledore's wand was in hand in an instant. "I think not!" He snapped. "I am the Leader of the Light, and-"

Anything else he was about to say was cut off as Fawkes appeared in the Great Hall, singing angrily as he circled overhead. Instead of coming to land on Albus' shoulder, as he would normally, he dived towards his human, plucking the wand from his hand and flaming away.

"Fawkes!" Dumbledore roared, staring at the loss of his unbeatable wand.

"He's gone." Harry said softly. "Back to the Realm of the Phoenix... taking the Elder Wand with him. It will never be seen by humans again." He wasn't sure how he knew this, but suspected it was a parting gift from the phoenix himself.

"'Elder wand'?" Amelia asked. "That's just a story."

"No, it's not." Hermione said. "But the Hallows are gone forever. That, however, is a story for another time." She turned to the goblins. "It's not just Dumbledore. Carry on."

Sighing, Ragnok pulled another roll of parchment from his pocket. "Severus Tobias Snape, you have been found guilty by the goblin tribunal of theft and conspiracy to commit theft. The penalty for these transgressions is death. Under the 1183 treaty with the Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, you are to come with us, to be sentenced to death immediately."

Snape's face contorted into absolute rage. "Potter!"

"Yes?" Harry and Hermione replied pleasantly.

Dumbledore, although down, was most certainly not out. "I have had enough of this foolishness. Goblins, leave these premises. I shall come and see you tomorrow, when I have sorted out this mess. Amelia, it's not appropriate for you to be here. If you would care to wait in my office, I shall come and see you shortly. And Mr. Potter, I need to have a word with you, too."

"No, you don't." Harry replied. "Albus Dumbledore, you have stolen four million galleons from my family estate. I have reclaimed that money. You provided money to Snape, the traitorous bastard who sent Voldemort after my parents. I have reclaimed that, too. The goblins have sentenced you to death, and I have no inclination to stop them."

Snape's wand was in hand, a curse already on his lips, until the wand flew out of his hand and into Professor Flitwick's. "Do not even think it!" Flitwick's tiny voice commanded sharply. "You will_ not_ curse a student!"

"Perhaps we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private." Amelia suggested.

"We would, but there's still one more traitor in this room." Harry pointed at Quirrell. "Be very careful... he's being possessed by Voldemort."

Quirrell gasped as he stood.

"I-Impossible!" Amelia whispered, reaching into her robes to draw her wand. "H-He's dead!"

"No, he's not. He was only disembodied that night." Harry said. "Hogwarts, anti-possession ward around Professor Quirrell, please."

A glowing ball of energy surrounded the teacher, who dropped to his knees and began choking instantly. A voice, clearly not coming from Professor Quirrell's mouth, began to speak. "What... are you doing... to.. me?"

"Good evening, Tom." Harry said politely. "I'm killing you."

Quirrell's body collapsed into dust, a thick grey cloud rising up. It formed a face as it prodded against the edge of the anti-possession ward.

"Everybody, this is Tom Marvolo Riddle... the coward who called himself Lord Voldemort."

"I am no coward!" The spectre roared. "I am the greatest wizard who ever lived!"

"And got defeated by a baby." Hermione pointed out reasonably. "Doesn't exactly make you great, Tom, does it?"

Dumbledore stared in horror as one aspect of his plan was unravelled so neatly. He shook his head, needing to regain control of the situation before too much got revealed. "Harry, you must release it."

"What?" Amelia asked, glaring at Dumbledore in shock.

"As a spectre, it cannot be harmed," Dumbledore explained, "but it could still possess someone. We must get it out of the castle."

"Could." Harry said. "But I'm not going to. Instead, I'm going to kill it."

"I am immortal, boy!" Voldemort shouted. "I cannot be killed!"

"Yeah... your Horcruxes were a problem." Hermione said, reaching into her robes pocket and pulling out several items. "The diary, the ring, the diadem, the goblet and Harry... you never quire managed to get to seven, did you? Still, they're all destroyed now. And since you don't have Quirrell's power to sustain you, you're getting weaker. I estimate that you'll be destroyed in a little under seven minutes."

Amelia stared at Hermione, wondering how the hell an eleven year old even knew of the word 'Horcruxes', never mind could destroy them. "I think it's time for everyone to get out of here..." She said.

Professor McGonagall clearly agreed. "Prefects, lead your houses back to their dormitories. Assemble at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning for the announcements." She waited a moment. "_Now!_"

As the Great Hall was emptying, Riddle's spirit began to slam itself against the anti-possession ward, but the power of a single wizard, even one of the greatest wizards who'd ever lived, was a match for the raw power of Hogwarts.

"This is all very confusing." Amelia said. "Would someone, preferably Mr. Potter, please tell me what's going on?"

"Of course." Harry, in true gentlemanly style, gestured to the bench behind Amelia, who sat down heavily. "A prophecy was made about twelve years ago, by Professor Trelawney. It stated that I would be the only one who could defeat Voldemort. This prophecy was given to Professor Dumbledore, but was overheard by Snivellus Snape up there. He went running to his true master and told him, which led Voldemort to attack my parents.

"Unfortunately, he didn't hear the whole thing, which is why his powers broke that night and he fled. Snape approached Dumbledore just before the attack, telling him that he wanted to switch sides. Dumbledore, ever a sucker for a sob story and a chance to meddle in someone's life, took him in, giving him a position here at the school as Potions Master. He also hired Trelawney, needing to keep her safe from harm."

"How do you know this?" Dumbledore demanded furiously, only to scream silently as McGonagall placed him under a silencing charm.

"Rude... but a good question." Amelia commented.

"After Voldemort attacked, Dumbledore sent Hagrid to Godric's Hollow to take me to my Muggle relatives' house." Harry said, ignoring the question. "I should have gone to Sirius, my godfather, but Dumbledore blocked that. He's innocent, by the way."

Harry could see Hermione hand a couple of golden coins to two of the goblin guards, sending them out of the Great Hall.

"So, for the next ten years, I was sequestered in the Muggle world, having no idea about my magical heritage. My relatives hated me, starved me and beat me. All the time this was happening, Dumbledore was stealing vast sums of money from my vault, using it to pay Snivellus and the goblins."

"You said you wouldn't tell!" Ragnok protested.

"I said that I wouldn't release a press article." Harry shot back. "And shut up, animal. The important people are speaking here." He turned back to Bones. "When I went to Gringotts, I reclaimed the stolen money and then removed every Knut from goblin control."

"What about the Horcruxes?" Amelia asked, and she could see Dumbledore leaning a little closer... not to mention the spectre in the bubble.

"As a Horcrux myself, I was in a unique position to find them and destroy them." Harry said simply. "It took some work, but with the help of the smartest witch in the history of magic, my lovely wife Hermione, the Lady Potter, we were able to remove it and destroy it."

Hermione came over and stood beside Harry, tucking her blade into her belt and taking his hand.

"During the last month, we've done a lot of research, discovering our true ancestry and position in the world. We made a deal with the goblins; if they prosecuted Dumbledore and Snape, not to mention returned the stolen money, we'd leave them alone. As the Heirs of Hogwarts, we are authorised and required to take control of the school if ever the one entrusted with stewardship, in this case, Albus Dumbledore, ever falls from the ideals of the school. And he has. He treats this place as his own social experiment. As of right now, that stops. He has been removed from his position using our authority."

Amelia was stunned. "But... what'll happen to him?"

"Dumbledore and Snape have been found guilty of theft from the goblin nation. They'll be executed." Hermione said simply.

"But... he's Dumbledore." Amelia said.

"Yes... Headmanipulator of Hogwarts. It stops, now." Harry said. "It's already done, Madam Bones. He'll be executed tonight. If he isn't, Gringotts will be destroyed."

"You're blackmailing them?" Amelia asked incredulously.

"I am."

"How?"

"If they don't execute Dumbledore and Snape, according to the treaty between Gringotts and the Ministry, I will tell every single witch and wizard on Earth about their duplicity. Not only with everyone stop using them for their banking needs, but people will begin to question if they've been stolen from. It will cause another goblin rebellion, and the goblins will be crushed."

Ragnok huffed angrily. "We have done our part, _Lord_ Potter."

"You have. And once these two thieves are dead, I will have nothing to do with goblins again."

A scream from the bubble drew attention back to Voldemort.

"Yeah... he's dying in there. Without his Horcruxes to sustain him, there's nothing left. He's going to die tonight. The so-called 'Greatest Dark Lord in the last Millennium'."

"I cannot... die..."

"You can, Tom. You will. And you are. I estimate a little over four minutes now." Hermione said pleasantly.

"You will... not win..."

Dumbledore focussed all his considerable power into ending the silencing charm. "It's true..." He whispered. "Harry, you're a Horcrux. As long as you live, Voldemort will never die."

"And I removed the Horcrux from my husband a month ago." Hermione pointed out. "You will not kill him, Dumbledore."

Harry clapped his hands together, making everyone but Hermione jump. "Now... onto _important_ matters. That of a new Head for this school."

"I think the matter of Voldemort dying and Dumbledore being executed are important." Amelia protested half-heartedly.

"Not really. Relics of a bygone age." Harry said dismissively. "But, we need someone trustworthy, honest, impeccably organised and truly willing to stand up for themselves. Off the top of my head, I can only think of one person for that role... Madam Bones."

"Oh? Who?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "_You_, Madam Bones. Your stint as the DMLE Director has made you widely respected. You're well-educated and don't let the petty things, like bribes and blood statuses affect you. You'd be the perfect replacement for Dumbledore."

Amelia was shocked. "I..."

"Yes."

"But..."

"Forgive the rude question, Madam, but what do you get paid from the DMLE?"

"Thirty-one galleons a week." She said, blinking as she revealed information she wouldn't normally. It wasn't any of their business what she was paid.

"Well, the standard pay for the Head Teacher of this school is fifty galleons a week. As a Founders' Heir, I'm offering you a job."

"But..."

"Wait a minute." McGonagall interrupted. "Fifty galleons a week?"

"Yes." Hermione said, spotting the Deputy staring at her former boss. "Why?"

"A good question." McGonagall agreed. "_Why_ are you being paid 112 galleons a week, Albus?"

Dumbledore didn't even have the good grace to look ashamed. "As the Headmaster, I am entitled-"

"_Former_ Headmaster." Harry interrupted. "And people skimming the salaries will stop immediately. This is a school, not a den of thieves."

"Everything's moving so fast..." Amelia moaned as she rubbed at her head. "Even though you've told me, I still don't understand it."

Hermione sat next to Amelia and began rubbing her back. "It's very simple, Madam Bones. Voldemort will be dead in two and a half minutes. Dumbledore and Snape will be dead by midnight. You're being offered a better paid, and frankly, more rewarding job than the one you're in. With us so far?"

Amelia nodded robotically.

"Professor McGonagall will continue on as Deputy Head, of course. No disrespect, Professor, but you're not the leader the school needs at the current time."

"None taken." Minerva replied. "I don't think I'd want to weather the storm that will come of this."

Harry snorted, before getting himself back under control. "No... I wouldn't either. Still, some leaders are born great... some seize greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them. I get the feeling Madam Bones is going to be number three on that list."

"I haven't agreed yet!" Amelia snapped.

"No." Harry said, already knowing the answer.

"Not yet." Hermione added. "But you will. The prospect of seeing your niece everyday, not to mention the prospect of steering the children of Hogwarts to bright, light futures... we know you'll take the job."

Amelia just shrugged.

"Ragnok, your have your orders regarding Dumbledore and Snape. I want them out of my sight." Harry ordered sharply. "Take them away and do your duty."

Sighing, Ragnok gestured to two of his guards. They moved forward, each of them bearing a pike that was aimed at a wizard.

Before the two could be killed, the goblins that Hermione had sent away came back, bearing a shambling man in smelly rags.

"Sirius Black!" McGonagall breathed, before drawing her wand.

Harry moved over to the new arrival, waving his wand to remove some of the grime and stench, before wrapping him in a tight hug. "Hey, godfather..."

Sirius, like most people in the Great Hall, didn't have a bloody clue as to what was going on. A pair of goblins had made their way into his cell, grabbed him and portkeyed him away. Now, he was stood in the middle of Hogwarts, no-one was cursing him and he had his godson in his arms.

"H-Harry?" He whispered hoarsely. "Is it really you?"

"It's me, Padfoot." Harry replied. "You're safe here." Releasing the smelly man, Harry turned to Madam Bones. "Are you carrying Veritaserum?"

Amelia nodded.

"Then please give some to Sirius. Question him about his 'betrayal' of my family. Hermione, would you-"

"On it!" Hermione shouted as she raced out of the Hall, heading for the stairs.

"Now what?" Amelia moaned, rubbing her temples even more fervently.

"Well, Sirius is accused of betraying my parents, which his oath as godfather wouldn't have allowed, killing Peter Pettigrew, which he didn't, and blowing up the Muggle street, which he didn't. I can prove two of those statements, right here, right now. Or rather, when Hermione gets back."

While waiting for Hermione to come back, Harry cast cleaning spell after cleaning spell at Sirius and the stench-filled rags he was wearing. McGonagall, taking her cue from Harry, began to transfigure the rags into something resembling clothing.

Amelia, gathering a few of her scattered wits, snapped at the goblins. "Well, restrain your prisoners!" Once Snape and Dumbledore were held at pike point, she drew a small glass bottle from her robes. "Would you open you mouth, Prisoner Black?"

Obediently, Sirius opened his mouth, letting the woman pour three drops of the truth potion onto Sirius' tongue.

Four questions later, Sirius was announced as a probationary free man. They'd need Pettigrew to make it official, but it had been proven ever since the invention of Veritaserum that it was impossible to lie when under the influence.

Harry closed his eyes and summoned a house elf to bring dinner to the near-starving former convict. It wouldn't take Hermione too long to grab the rat from Ron's hands... although, he'd probably kick up a stink about it being taken. Hermione wouldn't take any shit from Ron, though. The rat would be here.

Amelia simply stood and watched as Sirius tore his way through the leftovers from dinner. She shook her head slightly; how the bloody hell was he still sane? After ten years in prison, the man should have been nuttier than squirrel poo, but he was just... a bit dazed.

"He was innocent." Harry whispered into her ear, without her having to verbalise the question. "He's still sane because he had that thought in his mind. It's not a happy thought, so the Dementors couldn't take it away from him, but it kept him sane and his powers intact."

She glanced over at him. "He'll still need counselling."

"Undoubtedly." Harry agreed. "But, he'll also need a job. It just so happens that one of your first duties as Headmistress, and we both know that you're going to take the job, will be to find some replacement staff. A new Defence teacher, a replacement potions master and also, a decent history teacher wouldn't go amiss."

"I haven't agreed to take the job." Amelia said.

"You will."

"How do you know?"

"Because you know it's the right thing to do." Harry said simply. "Have a think about it." Turning away, Harry spotted Dumbledore and Snape, still being guarded by a group of pissed goblins. "And how are you two faring? Knowing that you're both going to die within the next couple of hours?"

For Dumbledore, this was his golden opportunity. Well, his _only_ opportunity. "Harry, my boy, we really do need to talk."

"Oh?" Harry asked. "About what?"

"This series of ridiculous charges that you've had brought up."

"They're not ridiculous. You're a thief, a manipulator and solely responsible for the shit that my life has been for the last nine years, not to mention it's your fault little Tommy became the Big Bad he did."

Dumbledore looked stunned. "I don't understand how can you say that."

"No... I believe that you don't understand it. That's simply more proof that you shouldn't have any contact in a child's life. You don't understand that what you do is wrong. You simply preach that everything you do is for 'the Greater Good'... but there's one important thing you fail to mention."

"Oh?" Dumbledore somehow managed to make himself look wise, infallible... and full of bullshit, in Harry's opinion. "And what's that, Harry?"

"Just whose 'Greater Good' it actually is." Harry concluded. "It seems that all these 'wonderful' things you do seem to benefit _you_. Maybe that sentence should actually be 'for the Greater Good of Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore'."

"How can you say that?" Dumbledore hissed. "For longer than you have been alive, boy, I have fought against the Darkness! I'm the Lord of the Light!"

"Really?" Harry looked politely interested. "If you're the 'Lord of the Light', why is one of your closest friends a sadistic Death Eater? I'm referring to the grease stain next to you."

Amelia cleared her throat as she stepped forward. "Mr. Potter, please stop baiting the prisoner." She turned to Dumbledore. "I know what you're doing, Albus; you're hoping to distract us. You're a prisoner of the goblins, and there's little I can do to transfer your custody to me... and from what I've heard so far this evening, I'm finding it difficult to muster up the energy to even care."

"Amelia, there are many things you don't understand." Dumbledore said patiently. "As has been proven here this evening, Lord Voldemort is not dead."

Harry glanced up. "No, he's not... not for another twenty or so seconds."

Every eye in the Great Hall, including that of the panting Hermione, who'd just entered through the doors, locked on the bubble near the Head Table. Inside, the whispy black cloud was thinner and smaller than ever, and the smoke-face appeared almost lifeless.

"P-Potter..." It wheezed, "I refuse... to die... I... I am... im... immortal..."

"You were." Harry corrected. "Your soul anchors have been destroyed, your powers broken. I have finished the job I started nine years ago. Your time has ended, Tom. Go on to your next adventure..." He sighed slightly. "I wash my hands of your filth forever."

The cloud flashed for a moment, before dissipating entirely.

"That's how it ends." Harry whispered. "Not with a bang, but with a whimper..."

Hermione came over to her husband, one hand tucked behind her back. "It's over, Harry. You did it."

"It's not over, Miss..." Dumbledore trailed off as he scanned his prodigious memory. "Miss Granger."

"Mrs. Potter." Hermione corrected.

"No, I don't think so. You're too young to be married, and as Mr. Potter is my magical dependant, I have not given my permission for him to wed." He straightened up. "I've had enough of this foolishness. I declare whatever marriage you think you have to be null and void. As for Hogwarts, unless the Board of Governors removes me from my position, I am still the Headmaster."

Hermione shook her head. "Nope. The Heirs of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor have removed you, and the goblins will be executing you tonight. You've lost, Dumbledore. You gambled and lost."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I refuse to accept that. As long as there is Darkness in the world, there will be a Dumbledore to-"

"Promote it?" Hermione asked, stepping forward, dangling a rat from her left hand. "Like you allowed a Death Eater to enter Hogwarts... well, another one, anyway."

McGonagall blinked. "That's a rat." She said pointlessly.

"No, it's not." Harry and Hermione replied together. "This is, in fact, a Death Eater named Peter Pettigrew."

"Wormtail!" Sirius spat, hauling himself up from his bench. "Give him here, Harry. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for!"

"No." Harry held up his hand, stopping Sirius in place. "You will not commit a murder, Sirius. You will allow him to be tried and convicted for his crimes. We all know there's only one punishment a disgusting rat like him can have. Extermination. Personally, I think pushing him through the Veil would be beautiful poetic justice."

Sirius glared at the rat so hatefully, a burst of accidental magic occurred, setting the small rodent on fire. While it screamed and writhed, Harry quickly used his wand to douse the rat with flames. "Bloody hell..." He muttered. "I've heard of 'if looks could kill'..."

"Let me have it, Harry." Sirius wheedled. "I can make it look like an accident... a suicide... a series of unfortunate events..."

"The Director of Law Enforcement is stood _right here_." Amelia pointed out unnecessarily. "I won't sanction murder, Mr. Black."

"It's not murder." Sirius protested half-heartedly. "Like the pup said, it's extermination. It's just a rat."

Amelia shook her head. "Professor McGonagall, you're the second foremost transfiguration expert in Britain. Would you please cast the Animagus reversal spell, please?"

A flick of the Scotswoman's wand later, a trembling, hunched-over man was in the place of the rat, conveniently dropped onto the floor at Harry's feet, who took the time to add his own hateful glare.

"Good evening, Peter." Harry snarled. "Welcome to your coming out party. You're going to be arrested by an honest woman in a few minutes, and you'll face a trial and your death."

"H-Harry..." Pettigrew murmured, hauling himself up to his knees. "You..."

"Look like my Dad?" Harry completed smoothly. "How would I know that, Rat? Because of you, they're both dead. And you're going to pay for your crimes. Madam Bones, what is the penalty Mr. Wormtail faces because of his betrayal?"

Amelia blinked as her mind ran through a list of laws that Pettigrew had violated. "Having a Dark Mark is technically a criminal offence. The actions required to get one are also capital crimes. Supporting a terrorist organisation against the lawful government, accessory to commit murder of James Potter, Auror of the Ministry of Magic, accessory to the murder of Lily Potter, Charms Mistress of the Department of Mysteries of the Ministry of Magic... quite a bit, to be honest. At least life in prison. Could probably be voted for execution, for his capital crimes."

Pettigrew grew paler than a boiled shite at the list of charges. He knew that each and every one of them was a valid charge, and he'd _relished_ the power he'd felt when he'd done his deeds. Somehow, it seemed that this was going to be Wormtail's last night.

"As the primary victim to his actions, I demand his execution." Harry said in a voice of ice.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore interrupted, stepping forward, ignoring his goblin guard, "I must counsel against this course of action."

"Of course you must." Harry muttered, rolling his eyes as the sheer predictability of the old man. "Fortunately for everyone present, you don't have a say in matters."

"Sentencing a man to death is a very dark action. It will harm your soul to do this. A good man would strive to show forgiveness."

"Then I'm a bad man." Harry said with a shrug. "He's a murderer, a coward and a traitor. He has no redeeming features, much like Snivellus Snape. For the Greater Good of the Wizarding world, those two, along with yourself, must be... removed. By whatever means necessary."

"Harry, you must listen to me." Dumbledore said, trying to step forward again, only to be stopped by the tip of a goblin spear pressing against his throat. "You must not do this. You must allow yourself to forgive others for their transgressions against you. Allowing yourself to carry such hatred inside of you twists you, turns you to the Dark. I really must insist that you allow Mr. Pettigrew to be sentenced to prison, where he may be redeemed."

"Like you did with Snape?" Hermione asked.

"That's 'Professor Snape'," Dumbledore corrected, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the girl. She would need to be removed from the boy's sphere of influence before she corrupted him away from Dumbledore's ideals. Harry's delusions about being married would also need to be 'corrected'. "And yes, Miss Granger. Professor Snape has more than redeemed himself in the years since Voldemort's fall."

"No, he hasn't." Harry and Hermione said in unison. "We are the Heirs of Hogwarts, old man," Harry continued, "and she has told us what your greasy pet does. He's biased, twisted and thoroughly irredeemable. You're simply a fool. And _very_ shortly, you'll be a dead fool."

Dumbledore reached up for the spear pressing against his throat, only to find that his goblin guard had muscles like a draught horse; he couldn't move it. "My boy, everything I have done has been for your own good. In time, with my guidance, you will come to see that."

Harry scoffed in his throat, and turned to Ragnok. "This will be the last command I give you, beast; take it away, deal with it and never contact the House of Potter again."

Bristling at being called 'beast', Ragnok nodded, before gesturing to his guards. "We shall be leaving."

Amelia sighed. "I think it best if your actions were carried out on goblin soil. Please contact me in the morning to arrange the recovery of the bodies."

Fuming, and frothing at the mouth, Snape managed to escape from his captor enough to charge towards Harry, with the intent of throttling the young man, since his wand had been confiscated. He was, however, foiled when a goblin pike pieced the back of his right calf, bringing him to his knees and pinning him to the floor. "Stay!" The goblin commanded.

"Goodbye, Snivellus." Harry sneered.

The two men were dragged, kicking and screaming out of the Great Hall, knowing that their years of scheming, plotting and manipulating had failed them. The only thing to look forward to now was their eternal rest... not a happy prospect for the black-hearted bastards.

Harry watched the pair be hauled away, before turning back to Amelia. "Madam Bones, as one of the Heirs of this fine school, I'd appreciate an answer to our job offer."

Still entirely unsure about the matter, Amelia quickly worked out the pros and cons:

No more Fudge: most definitely pro.  
No more pureblood Aurors who can't hex their way out of a wet paper bag: pro  
Being removed from direct governmental policy: con  
Being able to see Susan every day: Sold!

"I accept your offer, Lord Potter. However, my notice period for the Ministry is 12 weeks."

Harry turned to McGonagall. "Deputy Headmistress, will you be willing to cover the school while Madam Bones works out her notice?"

"I shall." McGonagall said heavily. "I'll also begin compiling lists of prospective teachers to cover Potions and Defence against the Dark Arts." She saw Hermione Gra... Potter open her mouth, and had a thought. "I shall also order a review of the other teachers to ensure that they're up to ICW standards." She knew she'd got it right when Mrs. Potter's mouth closed.

"Good." Harry clapped his hands together. "Professor McGonagall, would you arrange for Mr. Black to be sent to the Hospital Wing so Madam Pomfrey may ensure he's okay? Madam Bones... sorry, _Headmistress_ Bones, I'd appreciate it if you got Pettigrew into custody... or thrown through the Veil would work just as well. I'll bid you a goodnight. My wife and I are tired and looking forward to a good night's rest. I'm sure we can catch up with the rest tomorrow." Bowing slightly, Harry took Hermione's hand and sauntered out of the Great Hall.

* * *

The Room of Requirement had already been turned into a suitable apartment when Harry and Hermione arrived, Hogwarts knowing what her heirs wanted and needed. Hermione's incredible skill and power came into play when she placed the entire room under a _Fidelius_ charm, the secret of 'Harry and Hermione Potter's quarters are in the Room of Requirement. The Room of Requirement can be found on the seventh floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' casually absorbed into Harry.

After a relaxing cup of tea, the two casually stripped and climbed into bed, wrapping as many body parts around the other as they could.

"So... that was fun." Hermione deadpanned.

"Yep." Harry replied nonchalantly. "If they ask us for an encore, though, we're pretty much screwed."

"Don't need one." Hermione said, already feeling the rhythmic thumping of Harry's heartbeat make her sleepy. "Done enough. After everything, Harry... we'll get an ordinary life. A normal life."

Pressing a kiss against Hermione's forehead, Harry agreed. "We're done, my wife. Here's to us; A Normal Life."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Technically, number 6 in the series, but 3-5 are absolutely kicking my butt at the moment. 7 and 8 are also WIP, and these seem to be coming along quite well. I should hopefully be posting again before another four months goes past... But then again, the future is not set. There's no fate but what we make for ourselves...


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